Anamnesis
by Totally-Out-Of-It
Summary: Something serious has happened that puts Mike in the crosshairs and has people trying to shoot him in the streets. Harvey wants to make it all go away, but he can't because Mike woke up that day thinking he was still a pot head cheating on LSATs. Eventual Marvey.
1. Chapter 1

Anamnesis (an-am-nee-sis)

1. the recollection or remembrance of the past

2. the medical history of a patient

3. a prompt immune response to a previously encountered antigen.

* * *

Chapter 1

For Mike, waking up in a hospital wasn't unusual. He'd been in and out of them for most of his life, starting with the day his parents died. Grammy was getting older, getting sicker. She was in the white sterility once a month. Trevor got into some serious shit too, so sometimes Mike had to take him up there, making some wild lie of an excuse so they wouldn't question them further about the busted fingers and cuts that came with being stupid. Mike figured the nurses knew the truth anyway. Nurses knew everything.

This hospital visit was different though, because Mike had never been the one in the bed. He'd never been the one with the wires stuck to his chest and on his finger and with a needle in his arm. He'd never been the one with his chest aching and broad bandages holding him together, wearing only a pair of old sweat pants under the half rolled down blanket. He'd never been the one stupid enough to get hurt.

"Ah. The genius awakens," a male voice spoke. A man in a finely dressed suit, tailored to fit, bright lavender tie with blue dots, and a white business shirt had walked into the room. Starch, Mike thought. Handsome, he added.

"Wish I hadn't," Mike heard himself say and was a bit curious why he hadn't started with 'Everything hurts. Put me out of my misery or give me the good drugs.' He'd had better pain meds using just Trevor's stock of pot.

The man laughed shortly. "I bet."

"Since you agree does this mean I can get some good drugs now? Or are you in too much of a hurry – that suit's too nice for a hospital."

"It is, isn't it. You'll pay for making it smell like disinfectant later, don't worry. And don't go getting any ideas of playing the doctor so you can get out of here – you know law, not medicine." The man took a step toward the door. "Now, I'm gonna go find a nurse about those drugs; the sooner you're clear the sooner we can get back to court."

Get to court? Mike winced and held his head for a moment. Then he dropped it quickly back to the bed and looked up at the man with a slight bit of worry and realization.

"Shit," he said in a breath.

"What? You alright?" the man asked, looking scary and serious.

"Look," Mike started. "I just needed some extra cash."

"What?"

"What?" Mike stopped, staring up at the chocolate eyed man and hoping he'd guessed wrong.

"Mike, what are you talking about?" the man asked, stepping closer but somehow looking less intimidating. He at least seemed to be genuinely confused.

"This... isn't about me taking Greg's test for him?" Mike asked, recalling the last person he'd cheated the LSATs for.

The man frowned, that scary look back to his features as he thought. "Are you talking about the LSATs?" he asked finally.

"Not if you aren't," Mike replied quickly, shaking his head, eyes slightly widened. Shit. He'd backed himself into a corner, hadn't he? He'd dug his own grave. He had effectively just turned himself in to this strangely mellow but still scary detective or cop or lawyer or whoever.

The man's eyebrows came together, making his frown deeper and causing Mike's heart to speed. This man was going to tear him to pieces. Mike was doomed. There would be no escape. If looks could kill, Mike would be ashes by now. The pounding of his heart made him dizzy, but he just swallowed and kept eye contact.

"What's your name?" the man asked slowly.

"Michael James Ross. Can I get those meds now?" Mike answered.

"In a minute. Mike. What's today's date?" the man asked, not so slow this time.

Mike hated this basic questions bit, but he supposed it must be some kind of protocol to hospital ridden suspects. Maybe they thought he had a concussion. Hell, maybe he did.

"Last I checked, it was the twelfth of March, but I don't know when I got in here. Oh, and it's 2008, since that's probably going to be your next question," Mike answered and then winced. He probably shouldn't pull sass on a guy who was almost definitely going to end his happy, if pathetic, existence.

Mike followed with wary eyes as the man walked over to the table in the room. The two of them kept eye contact the whole time. Mike tried to look unafraid, but the man was intimidating, even with his mouth parted like it was, like he wanted to say something but had no idea where to start. The suit man picked up a newspaper from the table and gently tossed it onto Mike's stomach. It didn't hurt, so Mike assumed it was just his ribs that were bruised. He hoped it was just bruising, at least. He'd seen Trevor with a broken rib, and that was not fun.

"What?" Mike asked, reaching with his free hand to grab the paper.

"Check the date, smart guy."

Mike rolled his eyes, even if the motion made him queasy, and then looked at the print. "March thirteenth. Okay, so I've been unconscious. You can't hold that against me. Year 20... What?" All the breath left Mike at once.

"2012," the man in the suit finished for him, stepping closer to the bed. "Mike," he started, voice gentler, hand on the bed rail. When Mike ripped his eyes from the paper and threw a terrified look at him, the man frowned and sighed at the same time. "Do you know who I am?"

"I'm guessing...," Mike began, finding it a little harder to breathe than before. "I'm guessing the right answer is yes, but uh... Oh my God, what... what happened to me? Is this some kind of demented joke?"

The newsprint was tearing under his fingers, and Mike was eighty percent sure he was shaking. Make that ninety. The man in the suit forced him to release the paper, but he didn't move to put it back where it came from. Instead, the man touched Mike's shoulder tentatively, like the motion was unfamiliar, and made sure Mike was looking at him.

"Mike, calm down," he ordered, and Mike knew he should listen. He should obey this man, but his chest ached and his hip felt bruised and- and... "Breathe, Mike. You need to - Are you alright?"

Mike winced and put his hand to his head. Then he flinched, thinking someone was trying to hit him, but he couldn't remember where that idea would come from. Suddenly the wheels of a cart down the hall sounded like a freight train. "My head-," Mike whined, closing his eyes. "It hurts."

"Alright. Deep breaths. I'm calling the nurse," the man said, pressing the button on the bedrail.

"Ahhh," Mike huffed out. He tried to roll into the pillow, but his injured body hurt too much to obey. "Jesus Christ. Je-Jesus... Oh, it hurts."

"Yes, Mr. Specter? You-," a woman's voice started.

"Get someone in here now," Mr. Specter ordered, loud and angry.

"I'll be right there," the woman's voice spoke and then vanished. Mike didn't mind. Her voice was too high pitched despite being actually kind of low. Her footsteps were too loud. Handsome Starch hovered there, breathing too quickly, too loudly, too repetitively.

"God, dude. Will you stop breathing?" Mike begged, free hand reaching out to smack at the man's arm. He caught the edge of a sleeve and then someone grabbed his hand.

"Will you stop being an idiot and calm down?" the man growled.

Mike ripped his hand out of the other man's grip. "My head," Mike repeated. "My head. God, everything hurts. It-... My head."

He heard the nurse coming back, recognized her footsteps, but he was gone, temporarily freed from pain, before she even got close.

* * *

Where was he? What time was it? What happened? His whole body hurt, but mostly his head. He also felt heavy, and the spinning in his brain made him groan. That's when a familiar voice spoke up.

"Is he going to be alright?" It was the lavender tie guy. What was his name? Mr. Specter?

Specter. Like a ghost? An apparition. A supernatural force. Something or someone not to be trifled with. Someone whose name you can use when people won't take you seriously. And make you wish that your biggest problem was keeping this job that you seem to hate so much.

What?

"The medicine is probably wearing off. He's due for another dose in about an hour. I'm sure he's fine," the nurse said. Luckily, her voice didn't sound nearly as falsetto as the last nurse.

Mike groaned again anyway, because she was still loud, and shifted to try and find some kind of comfort from the stitch in his side. Unfortunately, it was impossible with how much pain he was in. He was so heavy and tired that he didn't even open his eyes. Instead, he took slow, deep breaths and hoped it would all pass: the nausea, the pain, the bad joke, all of it. It helped a little bit, and he relaxed some.

"He'll probably wake up in a few minutes," the nurse said. Did they really think Mike was sleeping? He was in too much pain to- Okay, never mind. He was going to keep his mouth shut and let them believe it. If he let them talk while they thought he couldn't hear, maybe he'd hear the truth of this whole crazy situation. This had to be a terrible prank.

"I didn't mean right now. I meant -," Mr. Specter said. Even without looking, Mike could tell this guy was not happy.

"You mean the amnesia?" the nurse asked. Mike did his best not to change his expression. Was she talking about him? The nurse sighed. "The doctor should be free in a minute. You can ask him for more specifics. I'm not experienced with the condition. I'm sorry. I'm sure the doctor will have a better guess for you."

"A better guess," Mr. Specter grunted.

"I'm sorry, Mr. Specter. Amnesia isn't specific. It's not a broken bone. It's a mental abnormality." Mike heard footsteps and then the squeak of a marker on a board - the one he knew was across from his bed. So he'd slept through a shift change, then, and now new-nurse was writing her name. One more thing to add to the list of things for him to remember. When the poor woman spoke again, she sounded anxious, not that Mike could blame her. "It's different for everyone it affects. Sorry. I'll be back with the doctor in a minute to do a check up." Mike listened to her leave, the door shutting behind her, and then the room was stupidly quiet.

Mike could feel his pulse in his finger where the blood oxygen machine held it, and it pulsed in time with the soft beeps of the monitor connected to his chest. Mike couldn't hear anything from it, but he knew from before that he had an IV going. Concentrating, he could hear the movement of air.

Someone sighed, and Mike remembered he wasn't alone. Mr. Specter was still in the room, and judging by his sigh, he was closer than before. Mike could feel the sheets move as the sharply dressed man trailed his hand down the side of the bed, him walking closer to Mike's head. Then his fingers left the bed and nimbly touched above Mike's left ear.

Mike jumped awake when the fingers touched him, eyes snapping open and a wildly concerned look on his face when he looked up at the older man. Mr. Specter retracted his hand immediately and looked both ashamed and apologetic for the contact.

"Sorry. I didn't mean to startle you," he said with an obviously practiced patience. "I was checking your head wound."

"Head wound?" Mike asked, like he thought the guy was lying even though he probably wasn't, and reached up to feel what he hadn't noticed before - the bandages. "What um..." Mike looked at the other man, who seemed to know the coming question would take some time because he sat down, and frowned. "What happened to me?"

"I'm sure Doctor Sassy Pants wants to tell you himself, but I'll give you the lingo-free version. You went home the other day after work - around ten. When you didn't show up the next morning, I tried checking up on you. I'll admit I was more annoyed than concerned. You weren't at home, and neither was your bike. I called Donna to tell her to yell at you if you were at the office and-," Mr. Specter stopped when Mike squeezed his eyes shut and shook his head. "What?"

"Donna?" Mike asked. Who? Was he supposed to just click and know who that was? It took a moment longer than it should, a moment in which Mr. Specter looked like someone had forced a stray puppy into a van and he'd been planning to adopt it, but then Mike realized that the answer was yes. He was supposed to know who Donna was. "I'm sorry. I- I want to believe you-"

"Mike," the man said, holding up a hand to silence him. "It's alright. I know you're trying. I'm... sorry too. I should explain better. Donna is my assistant at the office."

"That's the other thing," Mike said, holding up his hand, pointing at his guest and then motioning feebly to himself. "Office? Job? I have a job?"

"Damn, you really were a hopeless case before I met you, weren't you?" Harvey asked. Mike hadn't lost pride as well as memory, and he glared at Mr. Specter for the insult. "Sorry. Well, maybe not really. Yes. You have a job. You work for me."

Mike laughed outright and then winced as his chest ached. He pressed a hand to his bandaged torso and took a slow breath. "Work for you? What am I, a spy? A plant? Do you work for the government and need a guy in the drug circuit?"

That must have been the wrong thing to say. Mr. Specter frowned deeply.

"None of those, actually, but this may be too much at once. I'll explain later. When I called Donna, she said you weren't in the office. Almost immediately after I hung up with her, my cell rang. The hospital was calling because they'd found you in the goddamned ditch across the street. Luckily, not only was my business card in your suit pocket, but you apparently listed me as you ICE contact in your phone."

"We must be... close, then?" Mike tested, not wanting to make Mr. Specter upset. The man's intensity made it easy for Mike to imagine he had a concealed knife in his shoe. But so far the dapper figure hadn't made any dangerous motions, so Mike relaxed. It felt familiar to be calm around this man. Maybe it wasn't all a dream, after all. Maybe he did know this guy and just had amnesia.

"You could say that," was the vague response he got. There wasn't even a frown or a smile to go with it.

"How reassuring of you," Mike said, his lips tugging upward. He didn't know why he wanted to smile. This wasn't a joke. This wasn't funny. But he wanted to smile anyway, because this guy's voice was... different.

Mike's smile was rewarded with a tiny lift of Mr. Specter's lips, but then the door opened and the smile was gone from both their faces. The doctor was there.

"Good evening, Michael," he greeted and held his hand out to shake.

"Mike," the genius corrected. Their hands touched, but the doctor didn't really shake them. Mike was glad. He was pretty sure it would have hurt him.

"Mike, then. I'm Doctor Pavel. Laura here is going to do a bit of a check-up on you, and then I'll check how your stitches and bandages are doing when she's done. In the meantime, I hear you may be having a memory problem," he said. Mike felt the same way that Mr. Specter looked. This doctor was an idiot. Please make him leave and never speak again. The nurse from before came and stood by Mike. She smiled at him as she lifted his wrist to scan the patient bracelet there. The monitor near her lit up and she nodded before going about taking his blood pressure.

"Ah, yeah. It seems to be that way. I gather it's not 2008 anymore. Seems I missed the decade mark," Mike said, keeping _most_ of his sarcasm at bay. Mr. Specter, despite his obvious agreement with the doctor's intelligence, gave Mike a look that he translated to mean 'shut up and take this seriously.' Mike returned the look with one he hoped shouted 'what? what did I do?'

"Alright. According to Harvey," Dr. Pavel motioned to the lavender tie guy, "you've lost four years. I've heard of worse." Mike glanced at Harvey with confused eyes, trying to gauge his thoughts. Unfortunately, Harvey wasn't looking at him. "According to documentation and research in the area recently, there are a few possibilities. The best case scenario is this. You could be suffering a 24 hour post-traumatic amnesia, and you'll be fine in the morning."

"And what happens if that's not the case?" Mike asked. There was always a worst case scenario, but he wouldn't ask for that directly. In his experience, however, the answer was almost never the best scenario. The nurse typed something in on the computer and then removed the blood pressure cuff. After that, she seemed to be checking his temperature.

"Well, this is the part where you get upset when I say that the amnesia could be temporary or it could be permanent, because I should have the definitive answer. Unfortunately, amnesia isn't an art or a science. It's an ambiguous mental disorder. If you wake up tomorrow with amnesia still, we can start you on cognitive therapy while you're still in the hospital for your injuries. After you're released from the hospital, however, we can't force you into therapy, but it is recommended," Dr. Pavel explained. "The cognitive therapy is like glorified counseling, but it focuses on memory and past events. We've used it before for patients suffering temporary short term amnesia. They had issues retaining new memories after an accident, but we were able to fix them. That's the best attack plan we've got in our playbook. Actually, it's the only serious play we have at all."

"And what if my memories don't come back even with your therapy?" Mike asked, a cold stone growing in place of his stomach. The nurse typed up his temperature and moved on, checking the signals of his heartbeat and blood oxygen levels.

"Well," Dr. Pavel began and then stopped to take a deep breath. "We'll have to cross that bridge if and when we come to it. But let's stay on the positive side and not go looking for trouble. There's always hope."

Harvey looked at Mike then, slowly turning his head to stare into Mike's eyes, because Mike had already been looking into Harvey's. Mike couldn't really read him, couldn't tell if this news made him happy or mad or upset. He was looking at Mike as though he wanted Mike to figure this out, to fix it on his own.

... and wasn't that just a bitch move? Hadn't Harvey said they were close? What kind of friend leaves a guy hanging like this? Actually, where the hell was Trevor? The nurse typed some more and then stepped back, smiled around at everyone while only the doctor smiled in return, and then left the room. Checkup complete.

"About your injuries," Dr. Pavel said, regaining attention. He was looking down at his forms and charts. "Your amnesia is most likely caused by the blunt force trauma to your skull, just above your left ear. You lost the most blood from that wound too. The IVs in your arm have replaced a good deal of the blood and liquids you lost already. We plan to remove those by tomorrow morning. Beyond that, you have two bruised ribs. You're left ring finger is broken and has already been fitted into a splint after you're initial consciousness earlier today. There are several minor bruises and small to medium lacerations. And you seem to have bruised your cheekbone."

Mike stared at the doctor for a long time, trying to take all that in. That didn't sound like some routine mugging. Hell, it didn't even sound like a drug mugging, and Trevor had been in a few of those. It sounded more like someone had tried to murder him, but then why leave him in front of the hospital? Where was his bike?

His face must have looked confused, because Dr. Pavel sighed and added, "You got punched in the face, Mike." That wasn't even what Mike was confused and stunned about. Also, Mike didn't like how his name sounded coming from this man's mouth. He needed to stop it. Mr. Ross was better, even if it did make him sound like a father.

"Yeah, and a bit more, I'd say," he said, stunned. "Do we... I mean, do you know who did all that to me?"

"Unfortunately no," Dr. Pavel said. That's when Harvey took over, and Mike felt a wave of relief. Harvey's voice just sounded so much more ... assured.

"We were hoping you'd tell us when you regained consciousness, but that's not going to happen anymore," he said.

Mike took a deep breath and then swallowed heavily, his eyes on Harvey's again. Dr. Pavel may as well have left. "So what'_s_ going to happen to me now?"


	2. Chapter 2

Chapter 2

The sun was setting. Visiting hours would be over soon.

"No, his physical injuries aren't life threatening," Harvey said into his phone. "Doc says it's mostly cuts and bruises."

"Mostly only covers so much," Donna's voice answered from her desk in the office. "What aren't you telling me, Harvey?"

Harvey ran a hand over his gelled back hair. "Nothing," he said in an easy tone. "He's just got a broken finger and a bad bump to the head. He'll heal."

The air outside the hospital was warm, unusually humid, but he didn't want to go back inside. For one, he wasn't supposed to use his cell phone in the building. For another, he'd just spent several hours inside with a drowsy Mike, who kept nodding off, and he needed a break.

"Fine. How is he?" Donna asked, voice dropping from accusing to concerned.

"I just told you-"

"I don't mean physically, Harvey. I meant how is he taking it? Was it Trevor?" She sounded like she was ready to beat someone up if Harvey said the word. "Say the word, and I'll find his new place and I'll take him down." Harvey allowed himself a small smile for his victory.

"He doesn't know who it was," Harvey said and couldn't help but sigh. Donna started to contest the point, but he interrupted her. "He doesn't know anything... Donna."

She took a moment to think, and he could image her shaking her head. "I'm not understanding."

"The kid's got amnesia." It still made him sick to think about it, and he had to say it louder than normal just to get the words out of his throat. "Doesn't remember anything from the last four years."

Donna's gasp was heartbreaking, and so was her tone. "Wait, so he doesn't remember you? Me? The firm?" She gasped again. "What did he say? Was he confused? How did he take the news?"

"Of course he was confused, Donna! He's got amnesia!... What news?" Harvey asked, slipping his free hand back in his pocket.

"About his grandmother," Donna answered as though it was obvious. "He must have wondered why you were there and she wasn't."

"No... He didn't ask." It was a good point. Why hadn't Mike questioned his emergency contact more? He hadn't said anything about his grandmother or about Trevor. He didn't ask anything, really. He was nervous and confused, but...

"Are you going to tell him?" Donna asked.

"Only if he asks about her," Harvey said, turning to look back through the glass doors. "I don't want to stress him out too much. You'd understand if you had seen his reaction to the date."

The way Mike held his head and shook, gasping in pain and confusion, it was far too fresh in Harvey's mind, and Mike wasn't getting better fast enough to ease any of Harvey's tension. Harvey had tried to explain Mike's situation to him twice since the genius had woken up, but both times left Mike complaining about pain in his head and so tired that he soon fell back to sleep. Harvey didn't like putting Mike through that. He stopped trying to explain things to Mike about his job or their con. He didn't want to push Mike so hard that the younger man refused to see him anymore. Harvey had seen that romance movie, what was it called, The Vow, and he didn't want Mike pushing him away for trying to force memories on him.

"Poor kid," Donna sighed over the receiver. "You staying there tonight?"

"Doctor said I could, given the circumstances, but he warned me to let Mike rest. He told me it isn't my job to make Mike remember, and I can't force it on him." Harvey clenched his fist to keep the anger off his face as a family exited the hospital.

"Well 'force' may be a bit much, but you are going to try to help him, aren't you?" Donna asked.

"Who do you think you're talkin to?" Harvey asked, a smile of pride crossing his features. "Mike's gonna remember everything before his next cup of coffee with my help... including who did this to him. Then the two of us, and whoever else I can pull into it, are gonna show them that you don't mess with our firm... or anyone who works for it."

"But mainly with Mike," Donna amended. Harvey refrained from responding. "Or you know, me. Or you. Or Jessica. Or Louis."

"Okay, calm down before you hurt yourself, Donna." The closer rolled his eyes at no one and looked up where the sun was just a glow behind the skyline of buildings.

The conversation lulled.

"It'll be alright, Harvey," Donna said to break the silence. "He'll remember you."

"I know," Harvey said, but he didn't know at all. He didn't know when, he didn't know how much, he just didn't know. All he could see was Mike's terrified eyes snapping open to stare at the stranger checking his head wound.

"I'll try to keep Jessica off your back until you fill her in yourself. Take your time."

"Thanks, Donna."

"And if she gets too picky, I'll tell her you and Mike are on a date."

"_Thanks_, Donna," Harvey repeated, stressing the words so they really meant 'shut up.' Donna just laughed quietly, said a concerned sounding 'see you later,' and hung up.

Harvey groaned. He had no one else to call with an update. He had no other reason to stay outside – Harvey Specter didn't do strolls around cheesy hospital gardens. Straightening his posture, he turned from the scenery and reentered the hospital. Most visitors were already gone, and several nurses and doctors were on their ways out. Harvey looked out of place in his suit, even without the jacket, but none of them gave him any lingering stares.

At Mike's room, he stopped in the doorway. His hand was on the doorframe, where he'd raised it to knock and then thought better of it. Mike was asleep again, his head rolled to his right and away from the main injury. The white gauze wrapped around Mike's head made Harvey's stomach churn in a way he hadn't experienced in years. Mike had stitches under that bandage, and his haircut was ruined. Even after Mike left here, that reminder would remain.

The young lawyer looked broken: his head covered in white, his chest bound tight, his finger held in place so it wouldn't heal crooked, and all of the bandages and wires. A nurse came up beside Harvey and smiled at him as she handed over an extra blanket and pillow. He even remembered to thank her and smile in return. Mike wasn't dead. Harvey shouldn't seem as though he was in mourning.

He set the stuff in the chair by the window and moved to stand by Mike. His face was visible more from this side.

"At least you look relaxed," Harvey said. "Sorry for making consciousness hard on you."

Mike groaned, his eyebrows knitting together. His head started to roll but then flopped back to where it was. "Harv..," he whined and then trailed off. Harvey couldn't even react properly before Mike's eyes cracked open and found him. "No jacket...," Mike commented, sleep still clinging to him. "No vest."

"They aren't comfortable to sleep in," Harvey explained. He didn't know how to explain the feeling he got when Mike mentioned the vest - Mike always questioned Harvey's vests - but he knew he couldn't get too hopeful over the comment. Mike could just be observing Harvey's clothes, or it could just mean that Mike had the same opinion of the vests without knowing Harvey personally.

"Sleep?" Mike asked, raising one hand toward his face before realizing it was limited by a finger brace and then opting for the other one to rub at his eyes with.

"Yeah. I'm sleeping here tonight. Don't worry about it. You should go back to bed." Harvey tentatively reached forward, toward Mike's head but then defaulted to Mike's shoulder instead. He gave it a squeeze before moving to his chair.

"Sorry," Mike mumbled. He was asleep before Harvey could ask who the apology was for.

Harvey's shoulders sagged and he moved slowly to the recliner chair. He got over the low-grade leather by-product of the upholstery and leaned back to raise his feet. He really tried to get comfortable and cover up in the blanket, listening to the silence of the settling night, but there was something not sitting right in him. The feeling of guilt that hit him was unexpectedly strong. Mike had nothing to apologize for, so why?

Harvey frowned deeply out the window, where he could see the ditch they found Mike in the night before.

* * *

A gentle hand woke Harvey up from where he'd dozed off in the waiting room. The nurse whom the hand belonged to smiled apologetically and brought his attention to the sun starting to peek in through the window. He nodded his thanks and waved her off. The whole exchange was silent and fit in with the early morning state of the hospital, not yet open to visitors, with the next shift of doctors and nurses all passing through in a hazy morning routine.

Harvey felt hazy. He felt as though he'd slept far too long, although the clock said he'd only dozed off about two hours ago. Sleep had evaded him all night and only became more elusive each time he noticed Mike on the bed. Sometimes his eyes just wandered over to Mike, almost expecting the younger man to be staring back at him with a bemused grin as though nothing had happened. Sometimes Mike drew his attention forcefully as he groaned or whined in his sleep. It was just after four in the morning when Harvey went for a walk to escape the most recent bout of pain filled noises, and it must have been about four thirty when he sat in the semi-comfortable chair and nodded off.

Checking his phone, Harvey saw it was not only morning, it was just after the official sunrise. He stood and stretched, debating how long he should take in returning to Mike's room. He was just thinking about intercepting a nurse with breakfast so he could take the food himself to Mike when the nurse who'd been Mike's last night came around the corner. She scanned the room and gave a happy jolt when she saw Harvey.

"Mr. Specter," she greeted with... was that relief? "You're still here. Would you follow me please?"

"What's up?" Harvey asked, already moving to the hallway she came down. He did not like uneasy nurses. That could only mean something bad.

"Don't worry. Mike's status hasn' changed since yesterday. He's just a bit uneasy this mornin," she said. What was her name? He glanced over to check her nametag. Becky?

"What do you mean 'uneasy'?" Harvey didn't hear any loud beeping or yelling from the rooms down the hall, so there must not be an emergency.

"His heart monitor was registering a bit fast earlier, so I went to check on him. I think he had a nightmare . I brought him some water, but he won't touch it. He came round easy enough an' recognized where he was, but he kept askin' for you. He's just bein' really nervous. I think seeing you will calm him down," Nurse Becky explained as they came up to Mike's room.

Harvey didn't even have to enter the room. Mike's bed was raised to a sitting position, and he was breathing hard and kept touching around his head bandage nervously. As soon as Harvey stopped in front of the room, Mike's head snapped up to see who was blocking the light. His face looked tense, stressful, but when he saw who was at the door he... calmed. Harvey didn't know any other way to explain it. Mike's forehead lost its creases. His fingers fell from his head. His breathing evened out.

Stepping fully into the room, he heard one breathy name. His.

"Mike?" he asked in greeting. Mike flinched a little, as though Harvey had spoken too loudly, and then let out a sigh. The relief from a moment ago retreated, but he was still relaxed.

"Mr. Specter," he answered in a tired voice. It was so different than the thankful, breathy call of his first name from only a few seconds before that Harvey didn't know what to think.

"You alright, kid? I heard you're having kind of a rough morning." Harvey walked over to his chair, where he'd been meant to sleep, and moved his unused blankets to the floor. Mike's eyes followed him constantly.

"She said I had a nightmare," Mike offered.

"You don't remember?" Harvey asked, dropping down and leaning against the back of the chair.

"No... I mean I do, but I don't remember what it was about." Mike paused and looked away from Harvey with an apparently great bit of force. "I just... I woke up, and I looked for you, and you weren't here."

"You think I left you?" Harvey asked. Is that why Mike panicked? But he didn't even know Harvey.

Mike stared straight ahead, lips set in a deep frown. "I don't know," he grunted, annoyance in his voice. He took a slow breath, his eyes narrowing at nothing, and sighed gruffly. His next words were like a distant afterthought. "I don't even know you."

Harvey leaned forward, his arms resting on his knees. He pressed his hands together in front of him and tried to think five steps ahead like he usually did, but this was far from a usual situation. He had no idea what was going on with Mike, what kind of mindset he'd been in four years ago, how he was feeling right now, nothing. Mike had echoed his own thoughts, but Harvey didn't want to tell him that. He wanted to tease him like they usually did or encourage him somehow or, hell, comfort him, but Harvey wasn't good at things like that. On a normal day, he'd send Mike home or load him up with more work or banter with him or whatever the situation called for, but that was how to deal with stress of an everyday sort, not full blown amnesia. How –

"But...," Mike's voice was soft. Harvey's attention returned to his associate, and he noticed the tilt to Mike's head, the slight crease in his brow, all the tiny signs that Mike was ashamed. About what? Harvey clenched his hands together and wanted to scream. He wanted to tell Mike that there was nothing to be ashamed about, that Mike was stupid for even considering such an emotion, that Harvey liked being needed by Mike. But none of that ever passed his lips, because Mike murmured out, "I feel... calmer around you."

Harvey's expression softened. He pushed up from the chair and moved over to the bed, drawing Mike's gaze. He found a spot by Mike's legs to sit and set a steady stare on Mike's confused eyes.

"Hey, don't beat yourself up," he said. His shoulders raised, and he even smiled a little. "I much prefer making you feel calm than making you stressed out."

For a moment it seemed Mike didn't know what to say. He just stared at Harvey with his cheek pinned between his teeth and his eyes searching Harvey's for some tiny spot of recognition – or that's how it looked to Harvey. He hoped Mike found some, but whether he did or not was something only Mike knew, because he didn't tell Harvey.

Instead he snorted and gave a smile. "Yeah, okay Jasper," Mike said, tension easing from his face again as he swiftly exited the subject.

"Jasper?" Harvey asked, eyebrows knitting together. Usually he knew all of Mike's references... or was this Mike having a memory issue?

"You know, Jasper Hale. One of the Cullen's," Mike explained, looking away from Harvey. Harvey shifted to face him more and gave him an incredulous look.

"Did you just make a Twilight reference?" he asked, his tone light. Okay, maybe there was something Mike was allowed to be ashamed about.

"Sure did."

"The first movie wasn't even out until the end of 2008," Harvey challenged. Mike laughed.

"Shows what you know. I've read all three books." His smile put Harvey more at ease than anything else.

"Why?" Harvey clasped his hands together and brought one leg up onto the bed so he could fully face Mike. Why would anyone as smart and so... Mike as Mike read Twilight?

"Chicks," Mike grumbled. "You know – cute girl really likes something, you look into it so she thinks you like it too." Now he looked really embarrassed.

Silence covered them as Harvey took that information in and Mike seemed to die of embarrassment. He considered pointing out that Mike could have just as easily read and memorized a wiki site or something, but then he couldn't remember when wiki sites started being widespread. Maybe there wasn't a Twilight wiki in 2008. Besides, reading a few books and memorizing them did seem more like something Mike would do. Then he considered asking Mike what team he was on, but in the end he just started grinning as he remembered something Mike had no chance of knowing.

"What?" Mike asked nervously.

"There are four books," Harvey said. "And four movies."

Mike's face looked pinched for a minute and he shook his head, slowly so as not to get dizzy. After a moment, he took a deep breath and shrugged. "Well at least it's over, right? Now they can all move onto a new phase."

Harvey smirked and shook his head too. "Nope. Last movie comes out this fall."

Mike's smile vanished and he groaned before going on a rant about something Twilight related, but somehow even that made Harvey feel good, and he didn't even need to listen to the words to feel the warmth spread throughout his chest. It was something he'd never felt before, and he made a mental note to never tell Donna about it.

* * *

No offense meant to anyone who likes Twilight.


	3. Chapter 3

Chapter 3

There was nothing on TV. Well, that was a lie. There weren't many channels, but Mike had plenty of options since he didn't know any of the shows. But then there was the issue – Mike didn't know any of the shows, and the ones he did know had changed. There was a new cop show about two partners going to couples therapy, and that had been funny, and after that was a marathon of NCIS, but a lot changed in four years, apparently, because they were mentioning things Mike had no memory of.

He watched TV in a drowsy haze for about four hours after breakfast before he finally asked for a book to read. A nurse brought him SAT prep versions of The Scarlet Letter and Moby Dick – both of which he'd read and could read in his head if he needed to. He ordered lunch and then, after he ate, he took a nap.

Three days, Mike noted when he woke up. It had been three since the recliner chair beside him had been occupied for the night. Waking up and seeing the chair empty always made him feel cold inside until his mind cleared and he reminded himself that Harvey had a job. Mike wished Harvey could just put all of his weird clients on hold until this all cleared up... if it ever cleared up. Mike –wanted– it to clear up, because maybe if his memory returned he wouldn't have the nightmares.

He never remembered details once he woke up, but Harvey's name was always on his lips when his eyes opened, his name ringing in his ears and echoing through his mind, and all he wanted to calm his racing pulse was to see the older man. Mike felt like a silly child, trying to cling to someone who would chase away the monsters in his sleep, to check under the bed and in the closet – except not like that movie 'The Boogeyman', where the dad checked the closet and ended up dead.

Mike maneuvered his bed to sit up so he could look out the window without putting stress on his still sore ribs. He couldn't see the ground well, but he could see trees and the occasional plane and the building across the wide street, and all of that was the second best cure for his jitters. It proved he was safe, somehow, that the world hadn't gone through an apocalypse while he slept.

Nurse Becky coming in to check on him interrupted his thoughts. She asked him his name and scanned his bracelet and did whatever else it was she was required to do. Of all his nurses, he liked her the best. She had a cute southern drawl at the edge of her voice, and she was old enough to be his mother. Her sweet personality made him feel comfortable around her. She never gave him pitied looks and always tried to keep the conversation about things that wouldn't draw attention to Mike's memory loss.

"Mr. Specter called about you earlier," she said when she'd finished her check. "Says he might come over this way this evening if he gets off work in time. You know, in place of his usual call."

Mike couldn't help his hopeful tone. "Harvey's coming to visit?" Having Harvey call him each night to check up on him was fine, but seeing Harvey would be infinitely better.

The first pitying look. She quickly smiled. "He's gonna make an effort for you."

"Thanks," Mike said, turning away from her in case she slipped again. "I needed to hear that."

Becky seemed to notice she'd upset him. She took a moment's pause before speaking again. "He tell you how you know him?"

"He's my boss," Mike answered mechanically. He didn't know the specifics, but he wished he did. What kind of boss comes to visit an employee in the hospital? Stays the first and second nights? Is an employee's emergency contact? Why did Mike trust him so much before the accident?

"That's right. He told me he picked you himself for the job," Becky continued. Mike turned to look back at her, confused. "He couldn't sleep well the first night, you know – Tuesday, so we chit chatted a little."

Mike smiled and tried not to comment on how much Harvey would probably argue the term 'chit chatted.'

"Seems to be you barged in, accidentally, on an interview process he was holdin' for his law firm. He was ready to kick you out, but you showed him how smart you were and proved you were better than '_those cardboard cutout Harvard whoevers'_, and he hired you on the spot. You're his personal...um... associate." She perked up a bit. "The Robin to his Batman."

"What?"

Becky shrugged, stepping to the door. "It's what he said." She smiled and winked at him. "You rest, and I'll see if I can find you some other books."

Mike stared after her, puzzling over her information. Harvey said they were like Batman and Robin? Harvey was Batman? He took a deep breath. He needed to remember who their Joker was and where to find him... or them. That's what Harvey wanted. That's what Mike wanted. Find out who hurt him.

Who hit him? Where did it happen?

_"Where is it?"_

Mike groaned and closed his eyes. Voices bombarded him, pounding against his temples.

_"Where did you put it?"_

_"Tell me where you hid it!"_

_"Tell me!"_

Mike bent forward on the bed and held onto the railings. His stomach churned, and he felt as though he'd been punched in the gut.

_"Tell me what you did!"_

_"What did you do?"_

Mike pressed his palms against the side of his head.

_"What did you do now?"_

_"Trevor, what did you do!?"_

Trevor. Mike's eyes slid open and he found himself panting and sweating. The pounding in his head eased off, leaving only a dull ache, but his chest was what hurt more now. He'd been breathing too heavy. Becky was back, asking him what happened, if he was okay, did he feel nauseas? Mike took the water she was offering and shook his head.

"I-I'm okay," Mike assured her. She seemed unsure, but she let the subject drop after he asked for some Tylenol and gave her a thankful smile. A Percy Jackson novel was at his bedside now, something Becky had no doubt procured from some stack of books for the hospital's children patients. Mike didn't mind. After a few more empty guarantees of his wellbeing and a show of gratitude for the novel, Becky let him be. She promised to check up on him soon as she left.

Mike needed time to think. Alone.

Were these memories? These voices and images he kept seeing? It happened about once a day, whenever he tried to think back too long, but it didn't usually hurt like this. Headaches, yes, but his stomach and ribs? His hand? He leaned back against his pillow.

The memories, if that's what they were, were just like the nightmares. He didn't know what they meant. He could hear words clearly, as though they'd been said for the first time just then, but he never remembered what they were talking about. He'd thought maybe he was just hearing reruns of pointless conversations, maybe of shows or movies he'd seen. But this time was different.

This time he heard his own voice talking to Trevor.

What did that mean? ...Was Trevor the Joker?

* * *

A knock on the open door woke him up from a dose. His eyes snapped to the tall, solid form of Harvey Specter standing just inside his room and slowly walking closer. He was hiding something behind his back but trying to act like he always walked with his arms bent that way.

"Harvey," Mike said. He stopped the relief he felt from showing on his face, but wasn't fast enough to halt the emotion from seeping into his voice.

"Hey. Sorry it's a bit late," Harvey said and stopped next to the bed. "I brought you something to make the rest of your time here pass easier."

From behind his back the lawyer pulled a new iPad. It was black and shiny, never been used, but when Harvey opened it, Mike saw tons of apps already downloaded, and there were a few finger marks on the screen.

"What's the occasion?" Mike asked, tapping one of the downloaded games. Fruit Ninja?

"What do you mean? It's yours," Harvey said and took a seat on the edge of the bed.

Mike didn't even raise his eyes from the game. "No it's not," he said.

"What do you mean, it's not?" Harvey said. "How do you know I didn't just swing by your place and grab it for you?"

"Because if it was mine, it wouldn't be brand new. And even if it was, it wouldn't look this nice. For another thing, I don't know that I'd ever download a game called Fruit Ninja... although it's sort of addicting already. For another thing, I saw a photo album on the cover that is filled with photos meant to jog my memory. You should have come up with a better title for the album than 'Memories.' Seriously." He paused the game and raised his eyes to Harvey, who looked both pleased and sour. "Also, you're a terrible actor."

"Only when it comes to you," Harvey stated with a shrug. "Apparently." His head tilted to the side and he regarded Mike with something that looked like pride. "Alright, you caught me. It wasn't yours, but it is now. Donna had a bit of fun with it. She did the setting up and whatever, so blame her for anything you find on there."

"Even the pictures?" Mike asked.

Harvey nodded. "Even the pictures. She went crazy with a camera, so everyone you've met in the last year or so is probably in that album."

Mike's eyebrows lifted with interest and he exited his game to go to the album. It was definitely a dense thing. It even had subcategories – friends, coworkers, clients, Donna, Harvey, Me. Mike's lips curled up and he chuckled.

"What is it?" Harvey asked, leaning over but unable to see the screen.

"Nothin. It's just that Donna put a whole album of herself on here," Mike said and clicked that folder. "She's beautiful. You think I'd remember her."

"I'll be sure to let her know you think so highly of her. But let's be clear, she's not into you." Harvey shook his head minimally and waved his hand to brush away the idea.

"Your girlfriend?" Mike asked, and his chest felt condensed in an emotion he couldn't place. Everything loosened back to normal when Harvey actually chuckled.

"Definitely not. We've already had to deal with that assumption earlier this year. No. She's my secretary, assistant, general manager of my life type deal," the older man explained. "She's about as close to a best friend as I'm ever going to get... and if you tell her I said that, I'll fire you."

Best friend. Mike backed out of Donna's folder and went to his own. Donna had collected photos from Mike's Facebook and must have talked to Grammy or something because she even had some younger photos of Mike. Mike remembered hundreds of outings with Trevor, some of which involved cameras, but none of them seemed to be in the folder. Out of at least a hundred photos, Mike noticed two with Trevor in them.

"Trevor," Mike said, breaking the new silence. He looked back at Harvey, who's face grew stony at the name. "Why isn't Trevor here? Or Jenny?"

"That may be a bit much for one visit," Harvey said, standing and smoothing out his suit. "Maybe next time."

Mike's fingers clutched at Harvey's sleeve and snagged around his wrist. He gave a serious stare up at Harvey. "Tell me. You want me to trust you, so tell me."

Why was Harvey, a guy Mike hadn't known four years ago, here but not Trevor, Mike's best friend since middle school? How had Trevor never even come up in conversation? He needed to know. Why was Trevor the villain in his flashes?

Harvey was a wall of steel, but as the staring contest went on he seemed to soften. Finally he sighed. "Alright, but no talking until I'm finished," he said. "Let's get one thing straight – Trevor is not your friend. Hasn't been for years. Hasn't been since before I met you. He's an anchor, and he's only made your life harder."

"But-!" Mike started. Harvey held his hand up to remind him to keep his mouth shut, and Mike had to literally bite the side of his mouth. He wanted to defend Trevor, but Harvey had some kind of control over him.

"He got you kicked out of school, wasting your life in a pot dream. You needed some money and offered to do one drug sale for him. Long story short, that led to you meeting me and landing your position as my associate. After you got your job, you helped him get out of jail and sent him on a long trip to turn his life around. Somewhere in there, Trevor and the blonde girl broke up. After Trevor left, you and the blonde girl-"

"Jenny," Mike supplied.

"You and Jenny started dating. Don't make that face. You've been broken up for about a year. When Trevor got back, he found out about it and tried to get your fired to get revenge. I'm sure you won't be stunned when I say you were angry. Next time I saw you, you said you threatened him, that if he ever tried to mess with you again, you'd ruin his life too. I'll admit, I was proud of you – you stood your ground, even against a friend. That's tough. You told me the two of you were done. And that's all I know. I don't know where he went or what he's doing."

There was a brief silence in which the two lawyers just stared at each other, and then Mike's voice came out in an emotionless monotone.

"I don't believe you."

"Tough cookie, cause it's the truth."

Mike's eyebrows came together and he full on glared at Harvey. His gut felt all wrong, and he almost remembered Trevor turning to look at him as he ranted off the other's social security number, but it slipped from his grasping mind. He didn't want to believe it.

"Trevor's my friend, he wouldn't do something like that." But behind his eyes, he kept seeing flashes of Trevor's face on a dark street, sneering down at him interspersed with memories of them playing games together, and he winced as they caused a sharp pain in his temple.

"Well he did, and as part of our relationship," Harvey motioned between them, "You're not supposed to call him. Not that you'd want to these days."

"Part of our relationship? You banned me from talking to Trevor?" Mike asked, heart pounding angrily.

"For your own good, and you knew it."

"Well I don't know it now. I want to talk to him."

"Not gonna happen, Mike."

Mike set the tablet as far down his legs as he could to get it out of the way. Harvey reached for it, and while he was distracted, Mike reached for the telephone, stretching over the rails on his bed. Harvey set the tablet down on a table and turned around just as Mike's fingers closed around the receiver.

"Mike, I'm not kidding. Stop it," Harvey ordered, moving over and snatching the phone away.

"Hey, give it back!" Mike shouted, ignoring the ache in his chest as he stretched to reach for Harvey. Harvey just moved further away, and Mike grunted his disapproval. Then Mike's hand slipped on the rail and his upper abdomen crashed down onto the hard plastic. The pain that shot through him made his eyes prick with tears and he cried out his pain through grit teeth.

Harvey was there in an instant, easing him back onto his pillows, although all Mike wanted to do was stay curled up until the pain went away. His bruised ribs throbbed, and so did the "minor laceration" on his abdomen that had barely even tickled until this point.

"Don't be an idiot, Mike," Harvey was saying when Mike remembered to listen. "I don't even think Trevor has the same phone. Just rest, alright? I'll see if I can find the little weasel by my next visit. If I can, I'll bring him. If not, it's your prerogative. Deal?"

Mike managed to pry his teeth apart long enough to cough out "Deal," and then he just groaned, laid back, and hit his morphine button while Harvey stood by and shook his head.

* * *

Preview chapter 4:

"Remind me to get a hobby," Harvey said, signing his name at the bottom of a document.

"Oh. Missing Mike?" the red head asked smugly.

"Nope. But you've been depressing me for two weeks since the incident, and I honestly can't take another day of it," Harvey replied. He looked up and saw Donna giving him a disbelieving look from her desk, which he returned wholeheartedly.

Jessica did not look impressed with his wit. "When are you gonna let the kid go?" she asked.

He watched Mike move around the apartment, somewhere the younger man should be infinitely familiar with and comfortable in. Mike moved quickly, but the line of his back, the steps he took, everything in his stance told Harvey one thing. Mike was in no way comfortable here.

"What?" Mike asked, a sort of shock glazing over his features. "We aren't dating? This isn't a date?"


	4. Chapter 4

Chapter 4

Harvey had never noticed how dull the office was before. Before what? Before having an associate he didn't even want to begin with? Before Mike started following him around like a lost puppy? Before serious situations were open ground for jokes and quotes, even when they weren't? Before he made senior partner and everything changed?

"Donna?" Harvey called.

"Yeah?" the voice replied over the intercom.

"Remind me to get a hobby," Harvey said, signing his name at the bottom of a document.

"Oh. Missing Mike?" the red head asked smugly.

"Nope. But you've been depressing me for two weeks since the incident, and I honestly can't take another day of it," Harvey replied. He looked up and saw Donna giving him a disbelieving look from her desk, which he returned wholeheartedly.

Donna must have a sixth sense, because she noticed Jessica coming almost as soon as Harvey did, and they both pretended to be working diligently when she got to them. The black woman's knock was gentle, but her stance was anything but.

"Harvey," she greeted. He gave her a nod of his head to acknowledge her. "It's been two weeks, Harvey."

"I highly doubt you came all the way to my office to check that I could read a calendar," he said bluntly, motioning to the tiny calendar on his desk that he hardly used anyway.

Jessica did not look impressed with his wit.

"When are you gonna let the kid go?" she asked. Harvey kept the cold feeling in his chest from reaching his face. "I'm serious. He doesn't remember the firm. He doesn't remember your little charade, Harvey. How is he supposed to keep a secret like that when he can't even remember it's supposed to be a secret? What's to stop him from telling Daniel or Louis or any of the associates? Once you explain the situation to him, he won't know who is in on the deal and who should never find out. His loyalty isn't guaranteed anymore. He's a liability."

"He's a brilliant lawyer, and his loyalty was never guaranteed. Even before this mess, I never tried to win his loyalty. The only thing I did was give him a job. He developed that attachment all on his own, so let's not count that among our losses," Harvey said, shaking his head. He wouldn't - couldn't - let her get rid of Mike for this. This wasn't Mike's fault, and he wouldn't be hung for it.

"Are you saying you'll close him like a client? Win back his loyalty?" Jessica asked, and her coldness was not a figment of Harvey's imagination.

"I'm not going to close anyone. I'm going to tell him the truth, and then he's going to remember he was loyal to me already." Harvey stood up and walked toward his record collection, only stopping at the coffee table when he saw Jessica wasn't going to drop this. She stood at the other edge of the table, staring him down.

"Harvey," she said, voice softer. She glanced toward the door, but Donna wasn't looking, and then returned her fierce gaze to Harvey. "I need you to think clearly. Mike doesn't remember this office. He doesn't remember how the system works anymore, doesn't remember all the law he's learned or the progress he's made. He doesn't remember the client list or any of his coworkers. And he has already proven that he most certainly does not remember _you_. You need to cut him loose... for both your sakes."

Jessica's eyes were gentle above her straight mouth and hard words. Harvey could tell she was trying to think of him and how hard this might be for him, but he could also tell she was thinking more about herself and her position in the firm than about Mike or Harvey or any combination of the two. He stepped up closer to her, an inch or so away from invading her personal space, and looked her dead in the eye - as he had done so many times before for much less important causes. When he spoke, he spoke hard and slow.

"He's going to remember everything, and then he's going to tell me which son-of-a-bitch caused this so I can take their asses down. And _then_ everything is going to go right back to how it was before. I'm not firing him," he said. "I told you – there's no me without him, Jessica."

"You better god damn hope this works out, Harvey. If it comes down to it,-" Jessica murmured darkly.

"It won't. I'll take care of it," Harvey said, full of finality. Jessica nodded, her entire expression harsh. She knew she wouldn't beat Harvey on this. He'd made sure she understood that.

"Keep trying. But you are not to read him in on his position at the firm. Let him believe he got a real law degree. Tell him you got Harvard to let him take the test without taking the courses. Tell him he saved a supreme court judge's cat from being hit by a bus and got the degree as a courtesy. I don't care what you tell him, so long as it isn't the truth. Understand?" she asked, her tone just as final as his.

"Understood," and Harvey did understand.

He understood Jessica's worry and reasoning perfectly, but he didn't agree with her, not on this. He wouldn't lie to Mike. Mike's head was messed up enough. Harvey wasn't about to make it harder for him to remember the truth. Any lie would just add to possible confusion and probably piss the kid off when he realized what had happened. Lying would undermine the shaky trust they were rebuilding. Besides, Harvey wanted Mike back just the way he'd been, no alterations.

Harvey hadn't built his relationship with Mike on lying. Teasing lines, half truths – those came with the job. Mike threw those back in equal number these days. Harvey had never lied to Mike about anything important, however; avoided the issue, kept things from him, yes, but he'd not outright lied. He wasn't about to break that habit now that Mike was hurt.

Jessica wanted to hear agreement, though, so that's what he gave her. That was the beauty of the English language: connotations, implied meanings versus concrete definitions. Harvey knew how to "play the person", how to twist words to get what he wanted. Jessica should know better, but now certainly wasn't the time to point that out.

Jessica raised a warning eyebrow before she turned on her heels and walked out of the office without another word. Her exit left Harvey simultaneously feeling relieved and heavy.

He walked to the wall and snatched up The Spinners before going to put them on the player. Part of him chose the band because they were a defining group of their time. Part of him chose them because Mike had singled them out to make fun of them, and Harvey wanted to channel the little bastard's brain.

Mike would know exactly how to knock the memories back into someone. Kid remembered everything from the day he was five. He shouldn't even be able to get amnesia.

"That was harsh," Donna said, coming in and shutting the door behind her. Harvey stared down at the record player as though he hadn't heard her. "How's Mike holding up?" she asked.

"He's asleep half the time, so I'm told," Harvey admitted. "They've got him pretty amped up on painkillers though, so I suppose that's to be expected. He's bored when he's awake, but now he's got the tablet so hopefully that'll help. And he's got a special shrink that he sees once a day for therapy. He's busy... but I think it's better that way."

"Why?" Donna stepped closer to him, but she didn't dare touch him. His shoulders were tense. They didn't even relax when he took a deep breath and then let it out slowly.

"Because I told him I'd try to find Trevor before I came back to visit," Harvey explained. "He won't listen to me about any of it. He doesn't believe Trevor would betray him – at least he doesn't want to believe it. But what he wants is all that matters at this point. Damn it. You know, I wouldn't be surprised if Trevor was part of the reason he's even in this condition."

Donna bit her lip and frowned. "I'm sorry. Even without the amnesia, I don't think he'd understand how tough this has been and is going to be for you." When Harvey looked at her with cold eyes, she didn't even flinch. "What? It's not like you ever let the poor kid know what you're feeling - not really. I may be the only one who can tell how worried you are, and that's only from knowing you for so long."

"And knowing me for so long is the only way anyone in the world is going to be able to tell. I like it that way," Harvey replied, voice blank and controlled.

"Mmmm, nope. That's not how you'd like it with Mike," she said, a teasing note to her words and the way she tilted her head to the side like a curious bird. Harvey didn't even try to rise to her challenge, just let it drift away into the air. When Donna realized he wouldn't be responding, she stood up professionally and tapped her hands together. "So where's he gonna live when they let him out of the hospital? Lord knows he can't go back to the dingy place you found him living in, not if we hope to keep him."

Harvey actually smiled then and pointed at his assistant as though she'd had a brilliant idea. "That's exactly what I was thinking, which is why I'm going to let him stay at my place."

"Wow. Way to take him out of his comfort zone," Donna exclaimed, expression suggesting she was honestly stunned. "Has he ever even been in your apartment?"

"Once," Harvey admitted, going to sit back at his desk. Twice, but only once did he get inside. "But don't worry. We'll make a pit stop at his place on the way to mine. He'll get plenty of memory time there, and then he can bring his own toiletries and junk to put in my spare bedroom."

"I'm just trying to picture where this is going in the future and how your penthouse is going to remind him of what made him lose his memories in the first place," Donna said, eyes cast slightly skyward as she thought. "Oh wait. It won't." Then she settled a 'you're being stupid' look on her boss.

Harvey just smiled and tapped his lips with a pen. "Donna, get out before you ruin my moment," he said. She did, and he got back to work.

* * *

Defeat was not something Harvey Specter was accustomed to, but it seemed Trevor Evans was to remedy that. When Harvey made it back to the hospital over a week after his initial promise, he still hadn't been able to track down Trevor. Even after sending someone over to basically stakeout the guy's apartment for a day, he'd come up with nothing. Trevor hadn't used a credit card or been arrested in the last month – and both of those were shockers for Harvey. His rent was paid, but none of his neighbors had ever met him, much less could give any clues on his current whereabouts. His vanishing act did nothing for his case. Harvey just added it to the list of evidence pinning Mike's accident on the low life.

Harvey had hoped Mike wouldn't remember the Trevor issue, but he should have known better. The moment he entered the room, Mike's eyes lit up and he asked how the search had gone. When he got the news, he visibly deflated, but he looked no less determined.

"I'll find him," Mike promised. "Maybe not right away, but I know how he... or at least, I knew how he operated before."

And even though Mike was still going to try and get in contact with Trevor, Harvey felt he'd won a small victory, because Mike had admitted he might not know Trevor as well as he used to. Then it was time to broach the subject of Mike's living arrangement. The doctor, a woman this time, started it. She came in as soon as she could after the nurse had informed her of Harvey's arrival.

"He's free to leave anytime," she explained, and Harvey could see the disapproval on Mike's face as she spoke to Harvey and not him. "He may still be a bit sore, but so long as he avoids any strenuous activity he should be fine. I've prescribed him some more powerful pain killers than you'll find over the counter."

"Thank you," Harvey replied, for a lack of anything better to say.

The doctor glanced between both men as she continued. "Now the swelling has gone down, and your scans looks great, but you'll still need to be careful. The condition can cause bouts of confusion, short-term memory loss, and mood swings."

"Wait," Mike spoke up. "Are you saying I could forget more?"

"It's possible, yes. Not as much as this time, but... for example, patients in the past have reported forgetting if they've eaten or how they got on the subway or where they were going."

It was a sobering thought, and Harvey didn't like it at all. Mike had already forgotten so much. He wanted Mike to remember more, not forget. He wanted Mike to be able to write books before he went to bed about what he ate for breakfast that morning – just to prove his memory was better than ever. Imagining Mike suddenly forgetting what he was doing in the middle of the day... Harvey banished the thought before it could finish forming.

"Now, the best idea would be for you to go to a familiar environment when you leave. Since you may continue to show symptoms, I recommend you don't live alone. Do you have a roommate or someone to stay with that's familiar?" the doctor asked.

Mike opened his mouth, probably to claim Trevor, but then he settled into a frown instead. Harvey cleared his throat and decided to take the reins on this. "He can stay with me. I'm familiar." The doctor looked at him suspiciously. "Okay, so he doesn't know me now, but I promise you we used to spend most of the day together... every day. I'm not kidding."

The doctor stared at him, unconvinced, for quite a long time, longer than Harvey thought was entirely necessary, before she finally conceded. She told Mike she'd be back later to do a last check-up on him before he could get discharged and then stepped out of the room.

"Trevor and I haven't lived together for five years," Mike muttered into the silence. Harvey pressed his lips together and turned to face him. Mike shrugged. "I mean, I think it was only a year ago, but I've lost four years. It's just... that's half a decade. That's a long time."

"You've known me for two years," Harvey offered and shrugged as well. "That's a long time too. Don't sweat the small stuff, kid. Time is a manmade invention that only controls us when we're on the clock or on a date. Neither of which applies right now."

"What?" Mike asked, a sort of shock glazing over his features. "We aren't dating? This isn't a date? But I called for wine to be brought up soon. You really shouldn't lead me on like that."

The younger man was only halfway through his second sentence when Harvey caught that he was joking. He smiled in a tight but amused fashion. At least Mike could still tease him back with the same vigor.

"Alright, Cupid. Calm down," Harvey said.

"Really shouldn't take advantage of my memory loss like that," Mike continued, turning away in mock pain.

"Look," Harvey said, and Mike turned obediently. "Just be a good boy for the rest of the time you're in here, then we can swing by your place for some clothes and whatever... and then I promise to show you some real wine once we get to my place."

"You like making deals, don't you," Mike said, and Harvey couldn't help how smug he felt knowing Mike had figured that out so quickly.

"I'm a closer. Deals are sort of what I do. But let's just call them compromises in your case, alright?" Harvey didn't want to make 'deals' with Mike. The word reminded him too much of his conversation with Jessica. Jessica hadn't used the word 'deal' either, but the whole encounter gave off that kind of aroma. Dealing was for lawsuits, not for Mike – although the two might coincide if Mike didn't remember who he was. They might coincide even if he did. Their whole charade was a time bomb.

* * *

"Why am I coming home with you again?" Mike asked, weary and pulling his t-shirt over his head. Earlier, Harvey had let himself into Mike's apartment with Mike's key to grab him some clothes, just as he'd done to get Mike the sweatpants he'd been wearing during his stay. He hadn't told Mike yet, but since the kid was a genius, he had to have some idea how his clothes kept winding up here at the hospital.

"I'm your boss," Harvey said in way of explanation. He knew how simple and unconvincing it sounded. From a professional stand point, taking an underling home with you was probably a no-fly zone, but so long as Jessica didn't ask, Jessica didn't need to find out.

"I've never heard of bosses taking their workers home," Mike said echoing Harvey's thoughts. He moved behind the hanging curtain to change his pants.

"Well I'm not most bosses," Harvey replied.

Mike shrugged as he came back into sight, making like he accepted that answer. He turned from Harvey so that all the lawyer could see was the younger man's tense back. Mike cleaned up his last tray of food, moving things around unnecessarily, and then touched the blanket like he may begin the same processes with his bed.

"Mike," Harvey grunted, grabbing his associate by the shoulder and forcing him to turn. "You're my personal associate. All Senior Partners get an associate, and of all the knuckleheaded, carbon copy, brownnosing applicants, I chose you. You're... my partner in crime." Harvey smiled a little. Mike looked up at him, and Harvey thought he saw some recognition in those eyes. "The Robin to my Batman. I'm taking you home to keep an eye on you. Can't have you running off and vanishing on me. The Joker might get you." Oh, and if only Harvey knew who the joker was, he'd wipe him from the equation.

Mike snorted. "So now you're Batman," he said. Harvey smiled wider, which for Harvey was just a normal smile. There was a relaxed joke in Mike's statement that reminded Harvey of when he first met the kid - back when he was comparing Harvey to Peter Clemenza after they'd won their first case.

"Of course," he said, releasing Mike and shrugging his shoulders easily. "Clooney," he tried, waiting to see if Mike took the bait.

"Kilmer," Mike corrected, eyes drawn up as though Harvey's suggestion was so wrong it hurt. He frowned then, and Harvey smirked because he knew what would come next. Mike had fallen right into step.

"Keaton," the pair said together. Mike looked slightly stunned, but Harvey looked pleased. He had timed it well. Most things were perfect only once, the first time they happened, but this was perfect twice. Harvey was a bit shocked he'd been able to time his own response properly, since he knew it was coming, but he counted it toward his pride that he knew Mike well enough to know how long he'd pause. Mike didn't seem to know what to think as he stared at his boss. Hopefully his mind was recognizing the piece Harvey had just hand-fed it.

Mike's expression fell into a simple, but beautiful, smile and he looked straight into Harvey's eyes. It was like forging a bond all over again. The pieces were still there. Mike just had to see where they fit, and they would definitely fit. Harvey needed them to fit. How was he supposed to practice law without Mike there to remind him why he'd become a lawyer to begin with?

Mike was still smiling when he next spoke even though his words were far from a joke. "I think you're a loon. And I'm not gonna lie to you. If it ever seems like you're full of shit, I'm so gone. Understand me?"

"Almost like you were speaking my language," Harvey said with a half shrug of his shoulders.

* * *

The familiar banter in the hospital room lightened Mike's nerves. He agreed to leave with Harvey, although the hospital staff had told him he had no other options of people to stay with anyway. Harvey loaded Mike into the town car, because he expected having Ray drive up in a limo might be a bit too shocking.

"Afternoon," Harvey greeted as his trusty driver opened the smaller but still fancy car's door.

"Afternoon, Harvey. It's good to have you back, Mike," Ray said, smiling at the associate.

Harvey paused just as he was about to step into the car and looked to see the interaction. Mike raised a hand in a wave but didn't recognize Ray, at least not that his face showed. He glanced at Harvey and then back to Ray.

"Glad to be back...?" he said with a hint of hesitation. Ray laughed gently.

"Ray," the Indian man offered. Mike smiled, a small and grateful thing.

"Ray," he repeated, putting conviction and determination into the name. Harvey had no doubt that Mike was trying to commit the name to memory, to make sure he didn't forget it again.

The three men piled into the car and sped off into the city streets. There was no talking, but that was rather normal for them unless they were discussing cases, so Harvey didn't press for words. They were about a block from Mike's shabby residence when Mike turned away from the window. He closed his eyes and touched his head, but he didn't hiss like he had that first day in the hospital.

"Are we going to my apartment?" he asked and shook his head. The pain that had struck him left his features as quickly as it had appeared.

"Yeah," Harvey said, motioning out the window. "You need to pick out some clothes and stuff to tide you over at my place, at least for a little while. Plus, I want you to have a good look around, see if you can't remember what happened to you two weeks ago."

"Two weeks ago, I was meeting with a sap who couldn't tie his own shoelaces much less pass a test. Didn't deserve to go to law school, but hey, I needed the money," Mike murmured, his eyes narrowed at the floor.

Harvey frowned. Mike, for all his grace and strength in this trying situation, seemed determined to make this hard on Harvey. Why did he insist on pretending the amnesia wasn't happening when Harvey brought it up? The nurses said he had been doing well in therapy - really trying. What made Harvey different? The doctor said to expect mood swings but still...

Ray pulled up in front of the defaced building, and Mike was out of the car before Harvey could think to start telling him what to do. The speed must have been a getaway tactic, but Mike forgot Harvey had the key in his pocket. When Harvey reached the apartment, Mike was leaning with his head on it, groaning.

"Don't trust me?" Harvey asked. Mike looked over him with an apology hidden around his irises. "Here." Harvey tossed Mike the keys, which made Mike's face break with instant relief. Mike opened the door like a man who'd done it a thousand times before - which he probably had.

"Come in. But I guess you've done that before," Mike muttered as he stepped inside.

"Well, I've been in here four times at least," Harvey agreed. Mike paused in grabbing some dirty clothes from the floor and frowned over at his boss.

"I thought you said we were close," he said.

Harvey shrugged. "You've been to my place twice, once where you actually made it inside. I've been here twice to grab you clothes during the hospital stay, once before that to kidnap you to Atlantic City, and once -" Harvey paused. He'd come to fetch Mike from the hole he'd fallen into after his grandmother had died. "-to figure out why you weren't coming to work. We got high. It was a good night, but don't expect any repeats. We have a strict 'no drugs' deal."

"Wow. When you say 'close', you really stretch the meaning," Mike said, throwing things in a corner. He looked at several items curiously before adding them to the dirty clothes pile and moved quickly across the room. "Did we win any money in Atlantic City? Was I your wingman?"

"Something like that," Harvey said. He watched Mike move around the apartment, somewhere the younger man should be infinitely familiar with and comfortable in. Mike moved quickly, but the line of his back, the steps he took, everything in his stance told Harvey one thing.

Mike was in no way comfortable here.

After Mike knocked over a can of body spray and cursed, Harvey asked, "Are you okay?"

"No. No, I'm not okay," Mike said, audibly sighing with frustration before setting the can back where it had been. "My clothes aren't where I left them. I don't recognize half the things on the floor." The brunette stepped out of sight, let out a yelp and came back. "I don't know what happened to half the clothes in my closet. Since when do I wear suits? And there's all this junk I don't know sitting in my way."

Mike was shuffling around some deodorant, body spray, hair gel, a can of potato chips, and one of his briefcases. He stopped among the mess, running a hand over his face and taking a deep, distressed breath. Harvey couldn't help but feel sorry for him.

Harvey walked over and put a hand on Mike's forearm. "Let's see if I can help," he said.

Together, they packed a bag for Mike with the new matching body spray, wash, and deodorant Mike was using - hey, keeping a consistent smell was important, Mike informed him - a few pairs of jeans and shirts, some underwear and socks, and they hung two suits up to come along. At first, Mike protested, but Harvey told him they were for work, and after a very brief explanation and a lot of coaxing, Mike allowed them to come along. Mike tried to bring his bong too, but Harvey told him there were no drugs at his place and there better not be any in this apartment either. Before Mike could really question that, Harvey told him which of the items sitting on the table Mike used on a regular basis - like his IPod, bike helmet, laser pen, and pack of gum.

"I chew gum?" Mike asked as they added the stuff to Mike's bag.

"It keeps you from eating all the food in the kitchen. Your snacking habits from being a pot head still haven't worn off, and without the occasional gum, you'd be so fat Rachel wouldn't want to kiss you anymore," Harvey explained. He tapped his fingers along book spines, hesitating over Curious George.

"Rachel?" Mike asked, a smile in his voice. Harvey spun around.

"Now don't get too excited," he said and tossed the children's book at Mike, who caught it gingerly and glared at Harvey for ever tossing it. "You aren't together. Little office romance, but it just ends with her angry and you depressed. I'd call off the chase, if I were you, Fido."

"Did you just call me a dog?" Mike asked, slipping Curious George into his bag.

"Did I?" Harvey teased, standing by Mike's small table and smiling. He loved how Mike looked right now, cheap shirt and all. Mike's expression was affronted but accepting at the same time - just like the Mike who first stepped into Pearson Hardman. It was endearing to see.

"Well just for that, I think I'll ask her out," Mike said, turning away from Harvey and walking toward his room.

"Hey-," Harvey complained, but stopped before he continued the banter. Mike had paused in the doorway of his room and was leaning on the peeling white frame. His breathing was labored and heavy enough for Harvey to hear across the room. Mike wasn't touching his head, but his body had regained its rigidity. "Hey, are you okay? Does your head hurt?" The lawyer asked and walked quickly over to him.

"No," Mike whined. He pushed off the door frame and slightly into Harvey, but then remembered social boundaries and tried his best to stand on two feet.

"Well something's definitely wrong. Tell me." Harvey said, slowly placing a hand on Mike's shoulder, just below where it met with his neck. It was almost too intimate for Harvey on a normal day, but he wanted to give Mike the support.

"I just-," Mike paused, tilting his head toward Harvey's hand and then sighing. "I don't want to be... here. Do we have enough stuff? I want to get out of here."

"Yeah, we can go. But what's wrong with your apartment? I mean, besides the fact that it should be condemned." Harvey slid his hand down to Mike's bicep and pat it once before dropping his hand altogether and motioning toward the door.

"I just don't want to be here, okay?" Mike grunted, putting more space between himself and Harvey as he headed for the door.

"Okay. We're gone," Harvey said. He was going to grab the bag, but Mike got to it first and hefted it down the hall and stairs all on his own, leaving only the suits for Harvey to get.

Harvey had planned to let Mike have upwards of an hour in his apartment, but they'd only been there for about thirty minutes. It wasn't to plan time-wise, but Harvey had a sinking feeling it was fulfilling its purpose event-wise. Mike being uncomfortable around Harvey was one thing, but since when was someone not comfortable in their own home? Mike looked too sick for this to be a general dislike. A sour taste made its home in the back of Harvey's throat as the idea solidified in his brain: Mike's accident had started at home.

* * *

Preview chapter 5:

"Wait, so I'm a conman?" Mike asked, cracking the eggs.

"It sounds so harsh when you say it like that."

They were memories, he knew they were. He got snippets of them every time he tried to think about Harvey too much... but they never told him anything. It was all just noise, noise, noise, noise, noise – clouding up his mind and making the puzzle of his missing time stretch exponentially.

He shouldn't even care, but he did. He did, and that annoyed him. He felt the anger bubble up from somewhere in his gut as he stood. The flashes of memories, the terrorizing nightmares, the feeling of losing control – he couldn't... he didn't want to deal with any of it! It wasn't fair!

The coffee table made a satisfying crashing noise as he dropped it onto its side.


	5. Chapter 5

Chapter 5

Drugs. Deal. Doritos. World's smallest burrito. Pot. Acid. Colors of the rainbow. Plastic bags, hiding secrets. Cases full of weed. She needs to know. No more lies. Now we're even.

_"It was a barter transaction. I got six of them for one little briefcase."_

The wall covered in graffiti. Was this a dream? Drugs. Briefcase. High. Happy. Fear. The stink. The stink was everywhere. Where? The briefcase was in his desk.

_"This isn't because of me. It's because you're afraid you might have to admit that you're not as smart as you think you are."_

Not so smart now. Not so hot. No lawyers here to save you now. No lawyers. No suits. No lights. Nobody. No escape. No. The answer is no. No. I said no. No!

Trevor's face was angry, but also frightened, in the empty plaza. In the pit of his crushed heart, Mike felt sympathy... and hated himself all the more for it. When had it all become a lie?

* * *

Michael James Ross had never taken time to wonder what heaven would be like, at least not when he was clean, but if he had to find a way to explain it - this would be it. The bed wasn't soft or firm. It was perfect. The bedding was top of the line, all soft and thick, but not heavy. He felt cool and unrestrained. The light from the wall of windows in the room was letting in early New York morning light through the slightly parted shades Mike hadn't thought to close the night before. Best of all, there was no alarm clock or alert. It was just Mike, waking up in a beautiful bedroom all on his own.

Despite his tumultuous dreams, Mike felt free. Despite not remembering where he was, he felt calm.

There was a knock on the door, soft but firm, and then Harvey poked his head in. For a minute, Mike didn't know him, although he remembered his name instantly. When he recalled that he was sleeping in Harvey's spare bedroom, in his apparent boss's spare bedroom, Mike sat up like a startled rabbit. Harvey sort of smiled at him and chuckled.

"Morning," Harvey greeted.

"M-Morning," Mike stumbled over his reply. He felt embarrassed for some reason, like a shy teenage girl during prom season, and pulled the fluffy blanket up to cover his bare chest. Being covered definitely made him feel more secure. "Did I oversleep for something?" he asked.

"Nope. Not at all. I was just coming to see if you knew how to cook. You live in a dump heap by yourself, and I'm just generally lazy. I saw a potential for a deal, uh, a compromise," Harvey explained, stepping entirely into the room and leaning on the doorframe.

Mike yawned and smashed his palms into his eyes, one at a time. His blanket fell down a little. "And what's the deal?"

"You make breakfast. I continue to be my charming self and answer any question you may have about your missing time," Harvey explained.

"You act like you weren't itching to do that already," Mike said and groaned as he twisted his body to stretch.

"Smart. I knew I hired you for a reason," Harvey said. He was just watching Mike from a distance, like he had all the time in the world, and it was starting to make Mike feel like he was on display.

"Alright. Fine. Now will you leave while I get dressed?" the younger man asked.

Harvey chuckled lightly. "Alright, Sandra Dee. I'm leaving."

When the door shut, Mike slipped out of bed and crouched down in front of his bag of personal items. He pulled out his toiletries and headed into the adjoining bathroom. He'd told Harvey he was getting dressed, but he didn't think the lawyer would mind if he freshened up first too. Scratch that. Mike didn't care if Harvey got a bit ruffled. He had a routine, alright? And he wanted to go back to that routine after so long taking weird hospital baths. He didn't put any product in his hair or anything, but he didn't remember ever needing to gel it down for any reason, and he didn't expect he'd be going much of anywhere today anyway.

He felt safe in the apartment, at least safer than he had at his own place or in Harvey's car. Something about traveling made him nervous, and he didn't know if it was connected with his accident or the underlying fear that Harvey was secretly tricking him into a prison cell somewhere. But here, surrounded by the neat, clean, mostly white surfaces Mike felt at ease. He'd only known Harvey for about two weeks, but this apartment _screamed_ Specter.

Mike looked himself over in the mirror, took a few deep breaths to calm his jittery nerves, and then left the bathroom. He found Harvey at the bar, counter?, of his kitchen, scrolling through the photos on Mike's new iPad.

"Hey," Mike said as he walked over to the cabinets and started opening them up to see what he had to work with.

"Hey?" Harvey replied, watching him curiously. "What's up, Nancy Drew? What are you lookin' for?"

"Pan. Skillet. Something round and flat," Mike explained before letting out an 'aha!' and pulling a large pan out. He set it on the electric stove, then searched out two plates. When he had them on the counter, waiting to be filled, he headed for the fridge. "Alright. First things first – how did we meet?"

He had more irritating questions – how's Gran doing? Who's President? Do I have any friends now? What's your favorite movie? Have we ever had a movie marathon together... with pizza? But he figured he needed the basics first.

"Your grandmother needed to be moved to a more intense care facility. You didn't have the money, and Trevor convinced you to sell a briefcase full of pot to earn the cash. On your way to make the drop in the hotel, you recognized it was a cop set up and made your escape downstairs to where I was conducting interviews to find my new associate. When you ran in, Donna thought you were the candidate she'd been calling for and ushered you in, even gave you an approving wink. You started to pretend you really were the Harvard grad I was looking for, but then the briefcase fell open and, well, the truth came out. A short and stunning performance of your amazing memory and law skills later, I sent everyone else home and hired you on the spot," Harvey said, changing the album he was looking at.

Mike pulled out an entire carton of eggs, some sliced ham, an onion, and a packet of cheese from the stuffed refrigerator. Honestly, for a guy who claimed he didn't like to cook, Harvey had a lot of things in his fridge. Well, he never said he didn't like to cook. He said he was lazy.

"No onion for me, thanks. Don't like the smell on my breath." Harvey made a general half wave in front of his lips, and Mike put the onion back.

"Then why do you own an onion?" the genius asked.

Harvey ignored him. "Pearson Hardman only hires lawyers who graduated from Harvard, so I pretended you had a degree and hired you. Sometime later, a friendly hacker you impressed put your name in the Harvard system and got them to send you a real diploma and everything. Probably wouldn't hold much water in court, but it helps curb any wandering, curious eyes."

"Wait, so I'm a conman?" Mike asked, cracking the eggs.

"It sounds so harsh when you say it like that. You're never gonna get caught, and you've passed the bar. The only 'con' part of this is that Pearson Hardman requires the Harvard degree." Harvey turned the iPad around. "Next lesson. This is a recent office photo of all the associates. Recognize anyone?"

Mike left the eggs and stepped closer to the photo. Harvey's switch of subject worked perfectly as Mike tried in vain to find recognition in any face. After a moment, he shook his head slowly. Harvey shrugged and pointed people out.

"I'll be honest. I don't know any associates by name except you. Donna teases me all the time about it. However, a lot of these photos had captions so... This weird curly haired one? That's Harold. You talk to him a lot. I think you're like his... older brother figure or something. Kid's a mess." Harvey took a pause to roll his eyes. "The other one I see you hang out with a lot is... this one. This dark haired one is James."

"Jason," Mike corrected. He saw Harvey's face contort between curious and excited and felt bad about having to destroy that. He frowned. "I don't know him, Harvey. He was one of the first five photos in the album. I've seen his caption too."

"How many photos have you looked through?" Harvey asked, turning the iPad back around and scanning through the images.

"Uh... twenty or so?" Mike guessed. He cracked more eggs and tossed the shells. Then he turned on the stove. He frowned down at the non-stick pan while he waited for Harvey's reaction.

"Twenty out of at least a hundred? Donna's going to be heartbroken. Did you not like them?" Harvey stopped clicking things.

Mike shook his head but didn't turn to face his boss. "I didn't recognize anyone. I glanced over the grid view of all the photos, but I didn't click on many since I didn't recognize the locations or the occasions. It was like going through a stranger's Facebook album and trying to find one friend in dozens of crazy party photos."

Harvey didn't say anything, and Mike didn't know if he preferred it that way or not. He focused on making the omelets, pouring three eggs into the heated pan. They sizzled a bit, and he focused on keeping them from burning instead of on the silent man behind him. So it came as a bit of a shock when Harvey was suddenly leaning back against the counter two feet to Mike's left. Mike tried to pretend his heart didn't speed up unnaturally at the new location, but it did.

"Donna," Harvey began, "is my assistant... as I've said before. She's a sassy red headed woman with a lot of personality. I suppose most people wouldn't like her as their assistant since she likes to tell people when they're wrong, but we've been partners in this firm for as long as I remember. She knows me better than I know myself sometimes. Part of me wonders if that's because of how long she's worked for me or the fact that she uses the intercom to listen in on all my private conversations."

_"Do you even have to push a button?!"_

"So if I were to ask her what your favorite color was, she'd be able to tell me?" Mike asked, adding the ham and cheese.

"Probably, and I don't even know it. For example, she says I wear lavender when something bad has happened – like my brother getting really ill, my father dying, that kind of stuff." Harvey took a deep breath. "That smells great. Now when do I get to eat it?"

Mike jolted a little, realizing he had stopped paying attention to his cooking. He scooped the first finished omelet out of the pan and slipped it onto the first plate. His mind had wandered to a much more recent memory.

"You wore lavender that Tuesday," Mike said. Harvey gave him a look that said he was speaking gibberish and then reached into a drawer for some forks. "When I first woke up. You had on a lavender tie."

"Did I?" Harvey asked, uncaringly. "It's been a couple of weeks. I don't remember my outfit."

Mike pressed his lips together and frowned. But Harvey just said that Donna associated lavender on Harvey to major family crisis. Did that mean Harvey considered Mike family? Someone akin to family? They'd known each other for two years. Was it even possible that their relationship was that strong already? Part of Mike didn't believe it. Another part of him wanted it to be truer than the idea that the sun would rise each morning and set each night. The conflict between the two made his chest ache.

He smiled at Harvey, which Harvey seemed to like, and started to pull out eggs for his own omelet. Harvey stopped him with a silent shake of his head and simply divided his omelet in half, then he pulled out another fork for Mike. His mind rushing over too many things to fully concentrate on any one emotion, Mike just kept smiling and took the fork. He wasn't very hungry anyway. Harvey looked more relaxed than he had since the day of the accident, so Mike pretend his confusion was temporarily alleviated and just ate.

* * *

Regrettably, Harvey's condo wasn't much different than the hospital. Harvey went to work and Mike stayed there alone, told to rest when he needed it and not to leave. There was a flat screen TV, but it showed the same 'reruns' as the TV in the hospital, the same episodes Mike didn't know – they were just in higher quality. Harvey had a modest bookshelf, but most of the books on it involved law or psychology in some way. Mike sat down with one of each subject and finished half of both of them by the time Harvey called to check up on him at one.

"Everything going alright over there?" Harvey asked.

"I was a bit bored out of my mind, but you have some interesting books," Mike said.

"Good to hear. I'll be home as soon as I can get this work done without you. Order whatever you want for dinner. Okay?" Harvey sounded in a hurry even though he'd started the call by saying he was on a lunch break.

"Okay. Thanks for checking on me. I'm gonna keep reading now. See you later," Mike spoke quickly and then ended the call. He stared at his cell phone as it blinked that the call was over, Harvey's photo staring out at him with a slightly annoyed look. Mike must have snapped the photo at work sometime.

He had hung up on Harvey to let the older man get back to work, but despite his words he had no intention of reading anymore. Instead, he set the books back on their shelf and pulled his new iPad from his bag. Mike found a comfortable position on the couch and propped the device up on his knees. The photo albums were still up from when Harvey had messed with them earlier, and Mike scrolled through several shots from around the office before the masses of unfamiliar faces made his muscles tense up and he had to back out of the folder or throw the iPad off the balcony.

Mike closed his eyes and ran his hands over his face. He wasn't supposed to stress about it, he reminded himself. Harvey had been very clear this morning – he wasn't going to force Mike to remember anything. Yet somehow that made Mike want to remember everything even more. He wanted to remember for his own benefit but also for Harvey's. Whenever he couldn't remember something and Harvey looked disappointed, Mike's chest went tight and his gut twisted.

Disappointing Harvey was the worst thing he could do. He didn't know how he knew that or why he felt that way, but he did.

With his mind on Harvey, it was no wonder that his next inclination was to open an album titled "Harvey and Me." Inside he found a myriad of photos where both of them were present – not necessarily the only ones or even next to each other, but together nonetheless. Harvey always looked so suave and finely dressed. Mike varied from street clothes to cheap suits to fancier suits to... was that him in a tux? Since when did he have a tux?

_"What? I'm not Bruce Wayne."_

_"Don't I know it."_

Mike blinked several times, and his eyes landed on a photo of them both in tuxes, champagne glasses held high toward the photographer, smiling.

_"You look great," a female voice said._

_"Thank you. So do I."_

He rubbed his eyes and then shook his head to clear it.

They were memories, he knew they were. He got snippets of them every time he tried to think about Harvey too much... but they never told him anything. He only recognized voices if they belonged to Harvey or Trevor or himself. He didn't know where they took place. He didn't remember the reasons they were there. It was all just noise, noise, noise, noise, noise – clouding up his mind and making the puzzle of his missing time stretch exponentially.

How many flashes would it take to formulate any kind of understandable picture?

With a deep breath, he kept scrolling. It wasn't only Mike's outfits that changed. His hair changed a little too. He even had it slicked back in one photo, like Harvey's, and Mike realized he must have been trying to imitate Harvey. The way his clothing upgraded, the way his hair changed, hell even his posture: everything Mike saw in the photos told him he respected Harvey a great deal. Mike wanted to be like Harvey. Was it because he wanted to be more lawyer-like? More professional? Or were there other reasons?

Candid shots in the office. Donna must be some kind of ninja. Mike wondered if Harvey even knew about these. They both looked so serious in half of them, but the other half of the photos were radically different. Fist bumps, paper ball fights, stealing each other's food, giving each other food, arguing over records, and there was even one of Harvey trying to teach Mike to dance.

It was dark outside the windows. Mike was standing in the middle of the office, arms up in a holding position, and Harvey was behind him, one hand pulling his shoulders back, one hand on Mike's waist. _Harvey's fingers tightened on Mike's hip to keep his hips in place while his shoulders were moved. Mike leaned back too far, and Harvey's hand slid up his side to hold him upright. Mike's eyes shut and he tried to breathe calmly while he also tried to not epically fail at learning a stupid simple fox trot frame. Jazz music hummed from the record player in the corner. _

_"Get it right, Mike. I can't take you to the gala if you can't even pretend to know how to dance with the CEO's daughter." Harvey's fingers were hot through Mike's shirt. His voice was close by Mike's ear. "Even if you do choose to pass on the opportunity."_

So hot.

Mike panted and tugged at his collar. He pulled his shirt up over his head and tossed it to the floor. The iPad slipped onto the couch cushion beside him. Mike fanned himself, but the heat wouldn't leave him. The sun shone brighter through the window as a cloud moved from in front of it, and Mike hurried to the glass doors that opened onto the balcony. For a moment, he couldn't remember how to unlock them, but then they were open and he was kneeling by the railing, holding on and letting wind blow over his heated skin.

That memory had been different: It was so clear, so strong, so detailed. He remembered the temperature from the office, the heat of Harvey's hands, the way Harvey had to tie his bowtie before they walked into the gala, the name of the CEOs daughter – Britney, how he danced with her just to prove to Harvey that he could, the way he caught Harvey's eyes across the dance floor and Harvey looked so... proud, and not in an egotistical way that said he was a good teacher but in a way that said he was proud of Mike for learning and for being so good at it and for showing off for him. Mike even remembered the menu from the event and that he'd dropped shrimp sauce on his shoe. But mostly he remembered the dancing lessons... because Harvey had been so close to him.

And that gave Mike a realization he hadn't expected when he woke up from his accident: he had a crush on Harvey Specter. He didn't know how long he'd had one, and he didn't know if they'd ever been official, but the pounding in his chest told him it was true, and his mind took note because, God damn it, that explained everything... everything about his feelings for Harvey now. No wonder he trusted Harvey so much, felt so safe.

But what about now? What was he going to do now? Harvey never mentioned any relationship. He'd worn a lavender tie, but that didn't mean anything unless Harvey wanted it to, and Harvey brushed off the idea. Did Harvey know that Mike used to like him like that? Did Mike like him like that now? Should he try to like Harvey like that now that he knew he used to?

Mike let go of the railing and fell back onto his butt. He bent his head between his knees and groaned loudly, the noise lost above the city.

He shivered. The heat was gone. The vibrancy of his new... old memories was fading, but none of the details were lost. He still remembered everything, but it was moved out of focus, and it felt like an old memory should feel. One piece of the puzzle securely in place.

"Don't catch pneumonia," he scolded himself softly. "Not very professional."

He shouldn't even care, but he did. He did, and that annoyed him. He felt the anger bubble up from somewhere in his gut as he stood. Of all the memories, why did he get that one? Why did he get any memories? Why was he trying so hard to remember? He stepped inside and glared at the clean whiteness of it all.

This wasn't his apartment. Those pictures weren't of him. This wasn't his life. Four years! Why did he have to remember four years? Why did any of this happen to him? He hated being confused and not knowing and only hearing bad news and seeing disappointment on everyone's faces – Harvey's, the doctor's, the therapists', everyone's. He hated the whole situation, and Harvey's perfect home was only making it worse.

Mike went to the couch and lifted the iPad into his hands. The dance lesson photo was still on screen, and Mike did his best not to slam the device down as he moved it to the kitchen bar. The photo, all the photos, spun in his mind's eye as he made his way back to the living room and began to pace.

He didn't like Harvey. He didn't need Harvey. Just because the old him liked Harvey didn't mean he was obligated to go back to that. He could run away. He could pretend he didn't know anything or anyone here. He could move to... to California. He could leave... he could. The flashes of memories, the terrorizing nightmares, the feeling of losing control – he couldn't... he didn't want to deal with any of it!

It wasn't fair!

Mike lifted the coffee table onto two legs and dropped it onto its side. It made a satisfying crashing noise, but it didn't seem to break. Mike's fingers closed around a couch pillow and he threw it as far across the room as he could. Then he grabbed the other pillow and did the same. The couch cushions were too bulky and he just flopped them as far as his angry muscles cared to try for. When there were none left, he dropped down by the closest one and punched it. It didn't help at all.

Mike dropped down on top of the cushion and wrapped his arms around it. He squeezed it tightly, like he was trying to suffocate the fabric, and held on for dear life. His teeth pressed together, his voice growled out between them, and he closed his eyes as tight as they'd go. After several minutes, his arms snapped apart and he just laid on top of the cushion, totally limp. He took slow, tired breaths and wished his confusion would vanish as rapidly as his energy and anger... but he knew it wouldn't.

He was trapped in this brain of his, lost memories, broken pieces, mood swings and all. He doubted even Harvey could clear this fog. There was no getting out.

Harvey found him on the balcony, dressed in a hoodie and jeans but no socks or shoes. He wasn't even wearing a shirt. He was sitting on a chair, feet up on the seat and staring out at the bright lights of the city at night. It was nearly ten, but there was no sign in the condo that Mike had ever ordered food... because he hadn't. Mike heard Harvey walk up behind him but didn't turn to acknowledge him.

"I hate to ask... but what did the couch do to you?" the lawyer asked.

Mike shifted and buried his nose against a knee, warming it up. "Sorry about that," he said. He hoped Harvey heard him.

Harvey was quiet for a minute and then, "Did you eat anything today?"

Mike closed his eyes and shifted again, putting his forehead against his knees. He'd been thinking about his memory all day, the one with the dancing, and trying to figure out how deep that emotion ran in him. Hearing Harvey talk, even if just to ask stupid questions, made his chest tighten and he knew it was more than just a passing hormonal emotion. It was tugging on him even now. He wanted to be angry but there was that overwhelming calm that came from being around Harvey that refused to let him explode like he had earlier.

"Sorry," he grunted again.

Harvey was standing by him then, and he put a hand slowly, hesitantly, on Mike's back. "You alright, Mike?"

"Not really." Mike raised his head back up and looked passed the railing again. He had already decided not to ask Harvey about the crush. He didn't think Harvey knew, and even if he did, Mike didn't want to give Harvey any false hopes. "My head kind of hurts... and my chest... and my stomach."

"Well you haven't eaten. Come on." Harvey held a hand out in front of Mike. "We'll order up some sushi, and then you can tell me about my living room."

Mike loved sushi. He slid his hand into Harvey's and let himself be led out of the chair and back inside. When the sliding door shut, the wind cut off and Mike shivered. He didn't realize how cold his body had become. He let his eyes wander over the sight before him, the ransacked state of the room with cushions thrown and the table on its side.

Harvey was on his cell phone, ordering food without needing a menu. His choices sounded delicious, sounded exactly like Mike would order for himself, and Mike wondered how often they'd ordered food together. As soon as Harvey hung up, Mike started talking. He didn't let Harvey say whatever had been at the corner of that false smile.

"I was looking through the picture album, and... I don't know. I got really, really angry. I was confused and depressed and... Shit. I don't know, Harvey. I took it out on your furniture. If I broke anything, I'll pay for it, I swear." Mike ran his hands down over his face and grunted his annoyance at his own childish behavior.

When he looked back at Harvey, the man's expression was melting from his fake calmness into something akin to relief.

"Don't worry about it. I'm pretty sure it's just a mess. I knew I was bringing a child home when I offered to let you stay." He shrugged. "The important part is that you're alright now. Right?"

Mike took a deep breath and looked over the chaos again. A realization hit him – it looked like a fight had happened here. He imagined Harvey walking into a dark and silent condo to find his living room torn apart. He felt guilty now, about worrying Harvey more than any damage he might have done.

Trying to make up for it, he nodded and smiled tightly. "Yeah. Yeah I'm alright." He motioned to Harvey's attire, still dressed up in a suit. "Go change out of your lawyer get-up, and I'll put the couch back together."

Harvey looked, for a moment, as if he might argue, but then he just nodded curtly. "And the table," he said before turning and walking into his bedroom.

Mike sighed and started picking up cushions, starting with the one he'd punched. He spent a lot of time thinking only of himself, but he should really be more considerate of Harvey's feelings. Mike barely remembered their relationship, but Harvey had lost a trusted partner in this mess.

Mike put the last cushion back and looked up at Harvey's door as the lawyer strutted back out in old jeans and a grey t-shirt. Harvey's phone rang and he answered it after a quick glance at Mike.

Mike wanted nothing more than to find that partner again... for Harvey's sake.

He was just afraid of what else he might remember in the process.

* * *

Preview chapter 6:

"I'm taking you to the office." Harvey stopped his searching and turned back to Mike. "Hang on. You seem really calm."

Jessica Pearson slid into the otherwise empty elevator just before the doors shut. Mike tensed up instantly, and Jessica gave Harvey a serious side glance.

"Morning Donna," Mike greeted with such normalcy that Harvey was shocked and Donna literally started to cry.

Seeing Rachel fret over Mike was irritating Harvey in a strange way. Her fear made Harvey's look like a cold, unfeeling black hole.

Mike's forehead kept creasing and though his speech was normal his chest suggested a breathing change. Mike's pulse was quick under his hand, quick enough and hard enough to feel without trying.

And that's when he saw the man standing fifty feet behind Mike, arm raised and gun in hand.

Mike hesitated and then finished buttoning up his shirt and folding down his collar. As he reached for his tie, he said, "It's just an office, right? I mean... we're lawyers. What could go wrong in a quick visit?"


	6. Chapter 6

Chapter 6

When the sun started to peek through his window, Harvey stirred and dragged himself from sleep. He didn't even let his alarm go off, just switched the whole function off and decided to get up early. He was planning on getting Mike into the office today, had already cleared it with Jessica, and the earlier start he got the better. Harvey wasn't sure how long it would take to convince Mike he needed the fancier tie.

As he slipped out from under his covers and found himself some socks and a suit, he thought about the previous night. Walking in and finding the trashed living room had scared him pretty bad. He'd worried Mike had been beaten again, that whoever had tried to kill him once had come back to finish the job. Harvey had pulled out his phone and already pushed the 9 and the 1 before he saw the back of Mike's head over the back of the patio chair.

The kid was so lost. Maybe Harvey should stop calling him a kid. But the way he'd held Harvey's hand, the sad way he'd admitted to his tantrum, even the way he'd sat on the balcony – Mike was more like a kid than Harvey had ever seen him before. Surprisingly, instead of wanting to use it later as a taunt, it just made Harvey angrier at Trevor... or whoever. But he was pretty sure this was Trevor's fault. Bad things in Mike's life had a tendency to be Trevor's fault.

After he had everything on but the jacket and tie, Harvey left his room to go find Mike. He dropped his jacket over the back of a chair and slipped the tie over his head as he walked. When he reached Mike's door, he stopped – tie incomplete. Mike was... talking? Was he awake? Harvey leaned his head against the wood.

"N-No," Mike grunted. "S-Stop."

Harvey pressed his lips into a thin line. It was one of Mike's nightmares, just like the ones he'd had in the hospital. Changing locals had changed nothing about Mike's nights, it seemed.

After a short breath, Harvey knocked on the door to stir his associate. He couldn't walk in and shake Mike awake to save him from the nightmares, but he could do something like this. This he could still claim wasn't for Mike's benefit.

Mike's moaning halted almost as soon as Harvey started knocking, and Harvey waited half a minute before he turned the doorknob and let himself in. Mike was conscious, barely, and he stared at Harvey, perplexed.

"What time is it?" he asked, and Harvey wondered if he even remembered the nightmare at all. He sounded so... normal.

"Early. I came to help you pick out a suit and look presentable. I'm taking you to the office." He flicked on the light and walked over to Mike's closet. The suits they'd brought were hanging up, newly pressed thanks to Harvey. He took one down and laid it gently across the foot of Mike's bed as the associate sat up, cross-legged, on the bed.

There was something different about Mike, about the way he looked at Harvey. His hands on his legs were relaxed, his shoulders only mildly taut, and his breathing was totally calm. It was as if Mike were weighing options and waiting for something to jump start which one would win. His eyes followed Harvey carefully, but not suspiciously, and Harvey realized he was the deciding factor to whatever Mike was thinking about.

"Everything alright, Mike?" Harvey asked.

Mike didn't even flinch. He just nodded. "Yeah." and that deliberating tension left his shoulders and he reached for the suit. "So, the office. Does everyone know? About the accident and-"

"No," Harvey interrupted and stepped back to give Mike room. He turned to go through Mike's bag and see if they'd need anything for their trip today... but it was really just him giving Mike some privacy to change. "Well they know you were in the hospital for two weeks, but no one knows about the amnesia... except for myself, Donna, and Jessica. I'd prefer to keep it that way."

"Yeah... I guess that'd be the best. I don't want to be a freak show. Plus, if everyone knew, they'd act different, and we want them to be normal... right?" Mike asked.

"Right." Harvey stopped his searching and turned back to Mike. He had his pants on and was just slipping his arms through the sleeves of his shirt. "Hang on. You seem really calm."

So far Mike had been compliant but wary. He didn't know anyone. He mostly trusted Harvey, but not anyone else Harvey brought up. Mike had even been a little distant since learning that Trevor hadn't been found. But now... Mike seemed almost eager. It was the same energy that passed between them we they discussed their strategy just before going into a hearing or briefing or meeting of any sort where they knew they would mop the floor with the competition. It was... normal... familiar.

Mike hesitated and then finished buttoning up his shirt and folding down his collar. As he reached for his tie, he said, "It's just an office, right? I mean... we're lawyers. What could go wrong in a quick visit?"

"Right," Harvey answered, but he watched Mike carefully.

His chest felt strange. This routine interaction they were having gave Harvey a burst of hope he hadn't truly had since Mike admitted to feeling calm in his presence. Mike was still in there. He was still the same guy, and that was the best possible start to a day.

Mike's tie came out slightly crooked because the knot wasn't straight, and Harvey chuckled as he walked over. He pushed Mike's hands away and redid the tie for him. "Just like Atlantic City," he said.

"I'm banned from Atlantic City," Mike mumbled. "But... you know that."

"Yes, I do." Harvey nodded at his handiwork and stepped away. Mike seemed distracted, his eyes drifting away toward the floor. "Don't worry. The office is a lot like gambling. I'm sure you'll be a natural."

Mike's eyes lifted to meet his and the younger man smiled with a shrug. "Yeah. Pretending to know people I don't remember... How hard can it be?"

* * *

Getting out of the car in front of the building for Pearson Hardman is nothing new for Harvey Specter. He's done it a thousand times. More. But Mike's reaction is fresh – from the skilled associate who knows where the bagels are, where the guy sells pot by the hot dogs, and what area of the street to avoid if you don't want to be pick pocketed to the green faced newbie stepping out of the car behind Harvey with a look of shock on his features.

"Holy cow," Mike said with a gasp. His face looked conflicted for a moment before he stared in awe again. "Do I still ride my bike?" he asked, and it was so off topic that Harvey had to think twice about the answer.

"Yeah. Dorky helmet and everything." He slipped his hands into his pockets. "Why?"

"Um. Nothing. I just felt like I forgot my bike for a second." Mike shook his head and glanced away toward the coffee cart on the corner and its few customers. He looked lost, slightly out of place despite the suit and tie. Harvey had dressed him up right, but Mike still needed to act the part.

Harvey cleared his throat. "Okay. Mike, follow me." He started toward the doors and Mike obediently followed. "Keep your head up. Breathe normal. Try not to freak out. If anyone tries to broach a topic you aren't comfortable with or you don't know the answer to, tell them you need to scan files for me and excuse yourself. I'll drop you off at your desk. Spend some time there, and then come see me in my office. It's down the hall, all the way at the end. You'll see Donna at her desk and the glass wall that lines my office. You can't miss it. Okay?"

"What?" Mike stumbled a bit as they slipped into the building. Harvey waved at the guard on duty, who smiled at them both and let them pass without checking their IDs, and then came to a stop in front of the elevators. Mike leaned forward and pressed the button after he stopped beside Harvey.

"Don't worry. You'll be fine. If you take too long, I'll come get you. I'm just here to make a few phone calls, sign a few things, and then we'll be out. I promise." Harvey clapped Mike on the shoulder as the doors opened and the stepped inside.

Jessica Pearson slid into the otherwise empty elevator just before the doors shut. Mike tensed up instantly, and Jessica gave Harvey a serious side glance.

"Morning," she greeted and then turned her look on Mike. "How's that head of yours?"

"Um," was all Mike got out before she let out a sniff of a laugh and looked away. Harvey wanted to be angry, but he ended up just being amused at the way Mike bristled under her dismissal. "It's fine, thanks Jessica. I'm trying really hard, so I'd appreciate it if you didn't fire me just because you don't believe in me like Harvey does."

It was brash and, on a regular day, stupid, but Jessica looked more impressed than pissed so Harvey didn't panic. She looked Mike over again and then pulled a hat from her bag. It was a blank baseball cap, and she tugged it unceremoniously over Mike's head. The elevator doors dinged and opened.

"Looks like he's still alive in there," she said to Harvey and slinked out into the hall.

Mike grunted. "What's with the hat?" he asked, starting to pull it off. Harvey shook his head and tugged it back down onto Mike's head.

"Your head hasn't healed all the way and your hair still stands out. Jessica knew you were coming in today and is looking to help cover up your issue. It wouldn't be good for the firm if another firm wooed you while you were in a weakened state," Harvey explained. "So keep the damn hat on."

Harvey wouldn't say he was surprised by Jessica's actions, but he was. Yes he'd called ahead, and yes she said to keep a low profile about Mike, but the fact that she brought in a hat for Mike and intercepted him on the elevator to make sure he was covered showed more care than Jessica Pearson had ever shown to anyone besides Harvey. She'd say it was all for the company, and a good portion of her decision was, but this also helped Mike personally.

A grin threatened to break on Harvey's face, but he held it in. He had a reputation to uphold in the company after all.

When they reached Mike's desk, Harvey tapped the wall and Mike walked around to take his seat. Other associates were stealing glances in their direction, so Harvey lowered his voice and leaned in when he spoke. Mike looked caught between business professional and college drop out with that hat on, but at least he was here. At least the rumors that Mike had been fired would stop now.

"Be in my office in ten minutes or I'm coming to look for you, and you'd prefer that not happen. Alright?" he said. Maybe he sounded a bit harsh, but this was for posterity.

"Yes, Sir," Mike said, and it was with enough of a tease that Harvey doubted anyone would think anything weird had happened recently.

It was harder than Harvey expected to walk away from that desk. At the door to the room, he turned back to look at Mike. Jeff or James or whoever was already moving to lean where Harvey had been, and Mike was smiling and softly shaking his head. It was like letting your kid leave for school for the first time, where you don't know if they'd fall and hurt themselves and need you and...

No. It was worse than that.

It was like putting a loved one on a bus taking them to their hometown where old flames still lived, and the two of you had been having a rough time lately, and you don't know if they'll come back to you after the holidays or stay to rekindle an old relationship. It was filled with uncertainty and worry, and Harvey didn't know how to deal with that kind of tension in his chest... so he turned the corner and left Mike there in his cubicle.

* * *

Two short phone calls and a pack of forms to sign later, Harvey was getting jittery. Ten minutes was two minutes ago. He stood up, set down his pen, and grabbed his jacket. He was going to find Mike and hope he didn't find the associate huddled in a ball on the floor somewhere having a panic attack or something.

"Donna," he called out as he pulled on his jacket.

"Yes?" she sounded back over the intercom.

"Can you tell me when I turned into an over protective hen?" he asked. His collar took more effort than usual to tame, but then Harvey was heading for the door.

"When your phone rang and an apologetic sounding nurse told you Mike Ross was found half dead in the ditch across the road, and he'd taken a big hit to the head and they didn't know if he'd ever wake up." Donna was standing when he got to her desk. "But don't worry. I've been finding it hard to concentrate lately too. Knowing you had him has been my only comfort."

"I only got him yesterday," Harvey pointed out, taking the folder she was handing him.

"I know. But you told me he pretty much trusted you from day one, didn't you? That counts for a lot, you know." She suddenly gasped and looked past Harvey. "Mike!" she exclaimed in a soft voice.

"Morning Donna," Mike greeted with such normalcy that Harvey was shocked and Donna literally started to cry.

She hurried around Harvey to hug Mike tightly. This threw Mike for a loop, Harvey could tell, but he let it happen and even hugged her back. When Donna pulled away, she started checking his visible body for wounds. After she couldn't find any, she grabbed him by the face and gave a very serious look.

"Don't ever do anything like this ever again. Do you hear me? You gave us both heart attacks," she said.

"Both?" Mike asked, voice slightly off because of the way Donna was squeezing his face. His eyes darted to Harvey, who did his best to remain totally impassive.

Donna rolled her eyes. "Oh he'll never admit it. But it's true."

"I think that even if that was true, and I'm not saying it is, but if it was then there's been a major breach of confidentiality," Harvey finally said. Donna released Mike's face, revealing the way Mike was smiling at him now.

"Aw, you care about me," Mike teased. Donna made a squeaky noise and looked like she might faint from joy.

"Excuse me. I need to sit down," she said and walked quickly back to her chair. Mike's expression grew concerned and he held his tie against his chest as he looked quickly between the other two.

"What? What did I say?" he asked. Harvey shook his head and held his hand out in a 'calm down' motion.

"Nothin. You're just proving you're still the energetic egg-head I hired. Come on." and Harvey motioned for Mike to come into his office.

Before they could move more than a step, however, an anxious voice called out to Mike and made them all turn around to look. Rachel was walking quickly in their direction, a file in her hand. When she got to the desk, she set her file on Donna's desk, out of the way, and faced Mike.

"Where have you been? Two and a half weeks? What did you do, go under cover?" she asked and even spared some of her attention to give a quick glance at Harvey. Mike chuckled warily.

"Rachel," he said, his tone trying to placate her. "Calm down. I didn't just vanish, okay?" He paused and rolled his shoulders. His eyes flickered to Harvey and back to Rachel. "I was in a car accident."

Harvey was just as stunned as Rachel. The understatement of how serious this situation was didn't amuse Harvey, but he didn't want anyone else to know just how bad everything was either. He pressed his lips tightly together.

"I was in the hospital for a bit. Bruised ribs. Minor cuts. I'm alright," Mike continued. Rachel's annoyance had melted entirely away. She looked professionally concerned.

Maybe Harvey didn't want people to find out for more reasons than just keeping Mike's image clear. Seeing Rachel fret over Mike was irritating Harvey in a strange way. Her fear made Harvey's look like a cold, unfeeling black hole. Mike was an emotional person. He was going to latch onto this feedback from Rachel. Then what?

"Oh my God. When did it happen? Were you riding your bike? Did the police arrest the driver? Who hit you?" Rachel asked, reaching for Mike's arm but then pulling back.

Harvey wanted Mike to trust him, needed him to. He wanted to be Mike's confidant, his partner, his cohort. He didn't want anyone else in on their corner. Donna and Jessica were already invading. Donna was alright, and Jessica was a necessary evil, but Rachel Zane? Not worth it, and Harvey prayed Mike's amnesia of their relationship would keep the kid from spilling their secrets to her. Rachel was fine normally, but one bad day could ruin everything, and she had a tendency to be unprofessional and overly emotional – especially when it came to Mike.

"Uh...Yes," Mike looked away, his eyes distant. "It was a blue car, Corvette. My bike...um... the car broke the bike. Front wheel was all bent up."

Harvey stopped his inner exposition. Something was wrong. Mike's forehead kept creasing and though his speech was normal his chest suggested a breathing change. Was Mike making this up or...?

"They haven't... caught him yet." Mike pressed his hand to his head, just below his ear, and took a deep breath. His discomfort was obvious now. Rachel stepped forward.

"Are you sure you're okay, Mike? Maybe you should lay down," she said. She reached for Mike again, but he pulled back this time. The movement caused him to bump into someone walking up to the group – Louis.

"Hey, no hats in the office," the other lawyer grunted in annoyance and moved away from Mike. Harvey suspected he was more annoyed at being bumped than the hat. "Take it off or I'll take it off."

"Hat stays. I'm leaving in a minute anyway," Mike grunted. He didn't look well. In fact, he looked pale. Harvey took a step towards him.

"Hat goes. Office policy," Louis said and grabbed the brim. Harvey reached out to stop him at the same time Mike pulled away and accidentally helped Louis get the hat off.

Rachel gasped. Louis did some kind of snort noise and then muttered an "Oh my gosh." Harvey snatched the hat from Louis' hand while he was distracted and then pulled it back onto Mike's head.

"Jessica gave him the hat to wear in the office," Harvey said gruffly, moving half between Mike and Louis. "Don't you have some newbie associate to threaten, Louis?" He gave the shorter partner about two seconds to continue looking stunned and snapped. "Scram, Louis!"

Louis didn't need to be told a third time. He jumped and backed up a step. His forehead creased in what may have been curiosity or concern or both, and then he glanced at Harvey's angry look and headed back toward his own office. When Harvey turned back to Mike, Rachel was trying to fawn over him and so was Donna.

"Oh my God, Mike," Rachel was saying, and Harvey wished he could have stopped her in time too. Mike had his hand on the hat, holding it down where his head wound was. They'd all seen the still healing wound, the patchwork hair styling that attempted to hide it. Harvey frowned deeply. "How bad is it? Are you alright?"

"It was a blue...," Mike mumbled. He closed his eyes and took a slow breath. "The bumper hit my... It broke my bike wheel." He let out his breath and stumbled to his right.

"Okay, Mike," Harvey said and grabbed Mike by the arms to steady him. "Let's go in my office and have you sit down."

"Harvey-," Mike began but Harvey made a noise to cut him off.

"Don't talk, Mike. Just walk," he said and guided Mike through the doorway.

After Mike was slumped on the couch, Harvey went back to close the office door. Rachel looked concerned, but Donna was doing her best to calm the paralegal. All Harvey caught was "concussion from the head wound. He's still recovering," but that's all he needed to hear to be proud of his assistant. Mike was leaning forward, his elbows on his knees and his head in his hands, when Harvey came over to kneel in front of him.

"Mike?" he asked. He was glad Mike's back was to the glass and that he was low enough for Rachel not to see his face. He wanted to keep Rachel out of this. Call it being possessive or selfish, but he didn't want her around Mike.

Mike sucked in a harsh breath and pressed his palms to his eyes. "God, everything aches," he groaned. "I mean, it doesn't... but I still feel it."

Harvey pressed his lips together. His earlier assumption was feeling more true the longer this went on. He took a deep breath to calm his voice and slipped his hand up to the crook of Mike's neck.

"You really were hit by a car, weren't you?" he asked softly. "By a blue Corvette."

Mike's pulse was quick under his hand, quick enough and hard enough to feel without trying. Mike didn't speak, but he swallowed heavily and nodded. His hand was still on his head, his eyes still shut. His lips parted to take a short breath and he nodded again. "I... I think so," he finally said.

"You know the license plate or anything so we can get this guy?" Harvey continued.

He kept his voice calm, kept his hand on the heated skin of Mike's neck, kept himself lower than Mike – all to make Mike feel secure and, hopefully, more comfortable. Harvey's expression was even soft despite the idea that someone had hit Mike with a car. Sure he wanted to find the bastard and kill him, but right now he was more worried about Mike. The younger man seemed to be in pain, and Harvey couldn't tell if it was current or a memory.

"I... I don't know," Mike huffed out. "Maybe? I need a bit to think. Can... Can we go home?"

It was a mix of wanting to get Mike what he needed and wanting to do anything for Mike who just called Harvey's condo 'home' that moved Harvey to agree. He stood up, checked he had everything he needed, and then helped Mike to his feet. Luckily Mike was becoming more stable and could walk on his own, so they didn't look too odd walking out of the office. Jessica spotted them and looked like she wanted to talk, but Harvey motioned for her to hold her thoughts and said he was heading home. She took a good look at Mike then and didn't try to stop them.

Mike leaned against the side of the elevator as it descended, but the woman who stepped on a few floors down didn't seem to think it was odd. She didn't work for them anyway, so Harvey wasn't concerned. What concerned Harvey was how they'd get home. He didn't have time to call Ray if they planned on leaving right now. Taxi it was.

There was a taxi on the corner, waiting for someone leaving the building to need a ride as one or two drivers always did. Mike stumbled about halfway to it and Harvey had to hold him steady again until the apparent wave of dizziness passed.

And that's when he saw the man standing fifty feet behind Mike, arm raised and gun in hand. The barrel was aimed right for them.

Harvey didn't even have time to breathe. He hooked his arm around Mike and forced him to the concrete just as the man's finger pulled the trigger. The shot went off half a second too late. A businessman three or four feet behind Harvey shouted in pain and fell to the ground. Dozens of people milling about screamed and backed away from the three men who went down with one shot. Almost as soon as he and Mike were completely on the ground, Harvey looked back up to find the shooter... but he was gone.

"Mike, you alright?" Harvey asked, turning his attention back to the one who really mattered.

Mike was huddled up on the cement, hands around his head and panting. He didn't answer. Harvey repeated the question but to no avail. Mike was zoned out, curling farther into himself and closing himself off from the world. Harvey cursed. Now was not the time for Mike to have a PTSD panic attack.

"Mike, it's alright," he said. He tried to help Mike sit up, but Mike flinched away violently and pushed him off. Harvey tried not to take it personally. "Focus on my voice, kid. Have you been shot?" There was the smallest of shakes of Mike's head. "Good. There's a taxi right over there. Stand up, Mike. Stand up for me."

It took a bit of coaxing, but Harvey managed to get Mike to his feet. The man who got shot was bleeding pretty badly, but it was a shoulder wound, so he'd live. He wasn't the intended target, and he hadn't been in the same position as Mike. He'd be fine. Harvey made sure someone was calling an ambulance while he walked Mike to the taxi. He handed his business card to the woman making the call and told her to have the police contact him. He hoped they did, because he was really looking forward to describing the shooter, which he told the woman... but for now he just wanted to get Mike out of here. The cabbie took some encouraging to take them, but it didn't take Harvey long to convince him.

On the ride back to the condo, Harvey focused on getting Mike to do breathing exercises. He didn't try to touch Mike again, but he talked a lot and kept Mike's disoriented gaze on him. By the time the cab stopped, Mike was almost normal again.

"Sorry about that," he grunted. "I didn't mean to..."

"Stop right there." Harvey held up his hand and unlocked the front door. "You had a panic attack. I'm not going to blame you for that. Especially when someone just tried to kill you... again."

"Right?!" Mike exclaimed, walking inside. "What on Earth did I do? I mean... why are people trying to kill me?"

"Sit down, Mike. Or go take a nap. I'll get you some water... and then we can figure this out together," Harvey promised.

"Right." Mike nodded but didn't sound convinced. Still, he got up and slipped into his temporary bedroom.

Temporary.

Harvey puzzled over that word as he pulled out a glass and filled it with filtered water. When this was over, Mike would go back to his apartment. But after the first incident and now the shooting... Harvey didn't want to let Mike out of his sight. What if the third time was the charm and Mike never came back?

"Here's the water," Harvey announced, entering the room.

Mike was lying on his bed, on top of the covers, and staring at the wall. He was still in his suit, but his shoes and jacket had been discarded – impressive considering Mike's emotional state. With a soft intake of breath, Harvey walked over and set the glass on the side table.

"Something wrong?" he asked.

"I'm scared," Mike answered quickly. He let out a harsh breath of a laugh and held up his hand. It was shaking. "See? I just keep imagining the car in my mind... I imagine guns, but I don't know if they're going off or not... and someone... or maybe it's a bunch of someones... but they're hitting me, yelling at me. I can't stop it. And the... the _terror_ – it's like it surrounds me."

"You were involved in a severely traumatic event, Mike. It's alright to be scared," Harvey assured him. He moved around the bed and sat on the opposite side from Mike.

"I don't like it," Mike said. He took a deep breath, like he was preparing for something huge, and then held it in.

The silence between them seemed infinite, and Harvey couldn't think of anything to say. I know? That's alright? No one likes it? They were all obvious responses that wouldn't help Mike at all. Harvey didn't like feeling useless or being out of words.

"Can you move closer?" Mike's voice interrupted the silence before Harvey could come up with anything of value.

"Say again?"

"Lose your hearing, old man?" Mike joked, but it sounded lukewarm.

Harvey had heard the request, but he'd honestly just been unsure if Mike meant it. He slipped off his shoes and took off his jacket before he pushed himself further onto the bed and sat just behind his associate. He looked down at Mike, who was still determinedly staring at the wall – probably to avoid eye contact. What Harvey wanted to do was touch Mike: check his head wound, check the temperature of his neck, drag his hand down Mike's arm in an effort to comfort him. But Mike hadn't responded well to touch earlier... and Harvey had never been a touchy kind of person.

"I have nightmares," Mike admitted and bit his lip. "All the time. Every night."

"Nightmares?" Harvey asked. So Mike did remember them after he woke up. Did he call out in his sleep every time as well?

"Yeah. They're about what happened to me. I used to think maybe they weren't... Maybe I was just making what happened to me worse in my dreams than it was in real life, but then Rachel asked me about the car and the gun shot went off, and all the things I've heard or seen in my dreams came back to me. And I know that when I close my eyes, I'll be right back in the darkness with that car." Mike took a shaky breath. "God, I'd love something to calm my nerves," he said, and Harvey knew exactly what he meant.

"No drugs," he said. He pressed his lips together and wondered if there was anything he could do for Mike to help him sleep or even relax. Mike said in the hospital that Harvey helped him calm down. Just now, Mike asked for Harvey to sit closer to him. Maybe... "Do you want me to stay in here with you while you nap?" he asked.

Mike let out a pathetic laugh. Harvey stayed silent and watched Mike's Adam's apple bob. After a moment or so, Mike still hadn't spoken, so Harvey tentatively set his hand on Mike's shoulder to regain his attention in case it had wandered to a dark place.

"Mike?" he asked.

"Yes," Mike said and closed his eyes. "I mean... you don't have to, if you don't want to. I know you have your own bed. And you probably have work to do, since we weren't at the office long."

Harvey made an affirmative noise and shuffled off the bed. He grabbed his jacket and shoes and left the room. In his own room, he discarded all of his clothes into a basket and changed into his sweat pants and t-shirt, his usual at-home staple. Half-way through this, he realized he hadn't exactly told Mike he'd be right back and he hurried through finishing.

When he reentered Mike's room, Mike didn't appear to have moved: his limbs were in the same position and his eyes were still closed, but he'd lost his suit for a pair of sleep pants and t-shirt, and the covers were drawn and covering only Mike's feet. Harvey smiled slightly, amazed at his own forgetfulness of not telling Mike he agreed to sleep in here.

When he started sliding into bed, Mike gave a start and rolled to look at him. "I told you we'd figure this out together," Harvey said. "I'm not going to leave you to fight alone. Understand?"

"Understood," Mike murmured back. He smiled lightly and rolled back onto his side to sleep.

Harvey glanced at the clock and saw it was barely after lunch, but they could nap for a bit. After Mike woke up, Harvey would call Donna and check on any meetings or appointments he had for the evening or tomorrow, but right now he tried to clear his mind. Nothing made someone want to get out of bed more than thinking about all the things they had left to do that day, and Harvey was going to stay here until Mike didn't need him.

Beside him, Mike whimpered in his sleep. It was just like in the hospital – all those scared and sad noises that kept Harvey from sleeping because there was nothing he could do to stop them. Only now Mike wasn't held in a hospital bed. He was right here beside Harvey. As the nightmare continued, Harvey scooted over closer to Mike and reached around the younger man to grab his hand. Shakes ran through Mike, and Harvey slid his fingers around his associate's hand. Mike whined and tried to pull away, but Harvey held on and laced their fingers together to keep his hold. He pulled Mike's hand to his chest and Mike rolled onto his back to compensate.

God, he looked so vulnerable and young. Harvey squeezed Mike's hand.

"I'm here for you, Mike," He whispered. The shivering going through Mike calmed down, and the only other noise the associate made was the calm, steady sounds of breathing.

Harvey and Mike had never had an... intimate relationship. They'd never hugged, not even in the quick bro-hug style that Trevor and Mike once did in front of Harvey. But maybe they should... because Mike wasn't whimpering in his sleep anymore, and Harvey could definitely get used to watching him sleep.

* * *

Preview chapter 7:

Mike slammed his hands down on the counter. "Stop it, Harvey. Stop saying bad things about Trevor as though they make you happy."

His mind told him it was wrong to pull Harvey into his bed for his own benefit. His logical side told him that was selfish.

"Your memory-?" Harvey asked, pulling away.

His eyes met Mike's, and that was all it took for Mike not to care about boundaries.

"The only thing that bastard has ever done that made me happy, Mike, was get the hell out of your life," Harvey said, voice quiet but intense.

Trevor, his face lit up by the headlights and yet covered in shadows, moved around the edge of the pack. Was he sorry for this? Was that what Mike heard? Was Trevor feeling bad? It's too late for that, he wanted to scream, but he could barely manage whimpering.


	7. Chapter 7

Chapter 7

"I know life has been hard for you-"

"I'm Rachel Zane. I'll be giving you your orientation."

"– but you're not a kid anymore –"

"If they find out I lied about you going to Harvard, they'll take away my license."

"– and I want you to promise me you'll start living up to your potential."

"You set me up."

"You care about me. –"

"Come on. You know I don't want to live in a world where we're not tight."

" – I saw you smile when I showed up for work this morning."

"You may have had the courage to get this job, –"

"I've only ever had one person who told me what I needed to hear... –"

"–but you don't have the balls to stick it out when it gets tough."

"– Maybe it's time I started trusting somebody else."

Mike woke up with a gasp. He felt as though he'd breached the surface of deep water, left somewhere convoluted for somewhere clear. At first he noticed only the muted silence of a penthouse apartment, high above the noise. After a few slow breaths, Mike let out a soft, breathy chuckle. In the silence he'd noticed something else. He wasn't afraid. No nightmares. He brought his hands to his face to cover his stupidly relieved expression. No nightmares. He pushed himself up and took a deep breath, dropping his hands into his lap.

He was alone in the bed, alone in the room, but a quick touch to the other side of the bed said Harvey had left recently. The sheets were still warm. Mike checked his watch and then ran a hand through his short hair. He'd slept peacefully for three hours.

A white t-shirt had made the cut at Mike's apartment, and Mike pulled it on before trudging out into the rest of the living space. He was trying to make sure his hair wasn't sticking up when he spotted Harvey on the other side of the bar... in the kitchen... with the frying pan out.

"Are you going to cook?" Mike asked. "What's for dinner?"

"Pancakes," Harvey answered bluntly then threw a glance at Mike that dared him to make a joke. "Sit down."

The stools along the bar were almost too high, but Mike settled into one comfortably. Maybe Harvey did know how to cook. He had all the ingredients for pancakes aligned neatly by the stove. Instant pancakes didn't take much, but since Harvey didn't seem the cooking type, this was amazing to Mike already.

"Pancakes? What are you, twelve?" Mike asked.

"No. I'm a god damn adult. I can eat whatever I like, and I happen to love pancakes. Now shut up. We've got more important things to discuss." He gave Mike an intense look before he focused on mixing the batter together. Mike just smiled. Grammy used to make breakfast for dinner all the time when he was growing up. "So...Tell me about the car."

Mike took a slow breath. He should have known this was coming. "It was a Corvette. A ZR1. Custom light tube under the front. Freshly painted blue." He clasped his hands in front of him on the counter and kept his eyes on Harvey.

"How do you know it was fresh?" Harvey asked.

Mike smiled wryly. "Cause I could smell the paint once the car stopped after it hit me."

Harvey's face was priceless – concern and anger mixed together – but priceless. It made Mike's chest ache in a way that had nothing to do with his bruised ribs. Harvey always fought for him. He'd kept Mike sane, kept him on track... and Mike remembered that now. If that was his first week... how much had Harvey done for him since then? How much was Mike missing? How sold was his entire life to this man?

"So," Mike began and looked away from Harvey. The older lawyer looked away too, vigorously stirring the batter and then turning around to spray the frying pan. "I didn't see the license plate. I mean I only saw the front. It wasn't a numbered plate though. It was one of those stylized plates. It had two guns crossed. I think it was a Guns N Roses plate... And that's all I've got."

Harvey didn't speak for awhile. Mike heard the slight sizzle as the batter hit the pan, and again. Should Mike repeat himself? Was Harvey disappointed? No. That wasn't something Harvey would be disappointed about. Then wh-

"Someone tried to shoot you today." Harvey's voice was so cold, and Mike shivered in the wake of it.

"I noticed," he said.

"What the hell did you and Trevor get up to that has people trying to kill you over it?" Harvey asked. His voice was a growl. "And don't try and tell me Trevor isn't part of it, because he is. Hell, maybe that's why we can't find him. Maybe they already got to him. Maybe he's dead."

Mike slammed his hands down on the counter. Harvey stopped speaking, but he didn't turn around. "Stop it, Harvey. Stop saying bad things about Trevor as though they make you happy. He's my oldest friend." His stomach felt ill after the words left his mouth. Friend? His mind scolded him. Friend? What kind of friend let you take the fall? What kind of friend got you into drugs? What kind of friend –?

He closed his eyes. Harvey said Trevor tried to ruin his career. He couldn't remember the specifics of what Trevor did, but he knew deep down that Trevor had put a permanent headstone on their relationship.

A plate was set in front of him, two fresh and perfect pancakes sitting in the middle. A tub of butter, a fork, and a bottle of syrup appeared beside it. Mike looked up at Harvey, shocked. He was leaning close, and Mike's brain whimpered.

"The only thing that bastard has ever done that made me happy, Mike, was get the hell out of your life," Harvey said, voice quiet but intense. "You were drowning, and he was the anchor."

_"That boy is an anchor."_

Mike felt cold as his grandmother's voice rose up in his memories. He didn't like it. "Yeah well... it was about time I started trusting someone else."

Harvey's smile was unexpected... and painfully brilliant. He nodded his head, pulling away from Mike and back toward the stove. Mike prepared his pancakes, picked up his fork, and shoved half of one in his mouth all at once.

Was it possible they'd been together before the accident? Harvey hadn't said they were – had introduced himself as his boss, not his boyfriend. He hadn't held Mike's hand in the hospital or bought him any gifts. There had been no 'get-well-soon' flowers or teddy bear or anything when Mike had woken up. But what if there had been a relationship? What if Harvey just wasn't mentioning it to keep the stress of it out of Mike's mind? Was he worried about how Mike felt? Was he worried Mike didn't like him like that anymore? Because Mike definitely had a hankering for some Harvey. But Mike wasn't mentioning it in case Harvey hadn't known, so maybe Harvey wasn't mentioning it because he didn't think Mike knew. Mike chewed slowly as he stared at the outline of Harvey's shoulders and back and biceps and goodness-

"I love-," Mike began, around his second pancake, before realizing he was speaking. He swallowed heavily, and Harvey turned to look at him expectantly. Mike shook his head. "-pancakes," he finished when his mouth was empty. "Good choice for dinner. Major points."

"I've been known to have a good idea or two in my lifetime," Harvey answered with a smug look and a teasing note before turning back to the stove. Mike wasn't sure what he'd done to cause Harvey's mood to lighten so much so quickly, but a vision of them in Harvey's office, standing as equals for the first time, Mike in a brand new suit, came to mind... and he was pretty sure that had something to do with it.

He smiled at the memory, a small lift of his lips. He remembered it. He remembered that day and the one before it and the one before that. He remembered touring Harvard. He remembered meeting Rachel. He remembered meeting Louis. He remembered meeting Harvey. A laugh escaped Mike and he covered his mouth but couldn't stop grinning. When Harvey turned around to check on him, Mike's eyes were off somewhere else, running through the memories and relishing each small detail he could recall.

This was his dream from last night! He'd suspected they were memories, pieces of his missing life, but this was so much more substantial. He knew Harvey. He'd won him over in a fraudulent interview and gotten a job at a law firm and holy crap. He really was a lawyer! And he knew all those people he'd seen in the office that morning, the ones who'd come by his desk to ask him if he was alright or tease him about coming in with Harvey. He knew them all!

And he knew Harvey. He knew him and that little proud look with that little warm smile the day Mike came in after giving away the last plan B he had to go back to his old life – a life he didn't want to live. He knew Harvey. Mike knew him.

He stood from his seat on the stool and turned around to look at Harvey, who'd come around the bar to check on him. When he locked eyes on Harvey, the worry in his boss's eyes shifted into hesitation.

"Harvey," Mike said, clear and certain, and that hesitation faded into shock.

While Harvey was stunned, Mike was overcome. He wrapped his arms around Harvey and pulled him into a tight hug. He laughed into Harvey's shoulder, leaned his head against Harvey's. His chest was burning, and it felt so good. Harvey's arms found their way around Mike eventually and drew another happy laugh from Mike.

"Jesus Christ," Mike said and let out a short sigh. "I know you... Harvey, I know you."

"Your memory-?" Harvey asked, pulling away to look into Mike's eyes. Mike hoped he saw the recognition there.

Mike shook his head. "Not everything," he said. "It's just... the interview and that first case and Louis trying to scare me away. I remember that leap of faith when I gave Trevor the drugs. I remember being a lawyer. God, you don't know how much easier this is going to be for me now."

"Did you not trust me before?" Harvey asked. He smiled a little and raised his hand to ruffle Mike's hair, but he ended up just sort of setting his hand on Mike's hair for a moment before pulling away.

"I did. I mean, I was trying. But now it's like the difference of looking at a photograph of the Grand Canyon and actually going. Harvey, I –." Mike paused, voice caught in his throat. His relief was so intense, his joy so strong, his memory of that tense moment of longing during dance lessons so clear that he wanted to just move forward and kiss Harvey, but he held it in.

They hadn't been in a relationship. Mike realized that. Harvey was smooth around him, but when it came to physical touch he was disjointed. Harvey was kind but not loving. They were close, closer than an employee and a boss ought to be... but Mike was realizing this crush of his was probably just that – a silly one-sided boy crush on the cool older guy who had no idea.

"Me too," Harvey said when Mike failed to continue. Mike wondered what Harvey thought he'd been about to say. He wondered if he'd been about to say anything at all. What was Harvey agreeing with? Something positive, since Harvey was smiling.

"I can do this," Mike said decidedly and nodded.

"I never doubted you for a second." And Mike was utterly certain that Harvey was completely serious. Loyalty. Trust. He'd only grazed the surface of their relationship with this spot of memories. How much more would he gain if he kept trying? Kept living with Harvey? They may not have been together, but Mike knew he wanted whatever it was they'd had back.

* * *

Mike hadn't asked Harvey to sleep with him again when night came, but he really wished he had. His mind told him it was wrong to pull Harvey into his bed for his own benefit when he didn't think Harvey felt anything similar to his own love-struck emotions. His logical side told him that was selfish, that was the quickest way to blow his cover and be a douche at the same time. So he'd held it in when they parted for the night and tried to get comfortable in the queen size sheets that threatened to swallow him whole.

He took a long, slow breath, trying to calm his nervous heart. _No nightmares_, he told himself_. No nightmares tonight. Just like earlier_. He took a second breath. Then a third. He imagined sinking into his pillow in the stillness of his room, slipping away into a delicate and comfortable darkness, and felt the edges of his mind blur with the promise of sleep.

"Where'd you hide it, Ross?!"

His gasped for air, his eyes springing open. Gravel bit into his cheek as he rolled himself over on the side of the street. His chest hurt so bad. He couldn't breathe right. Why couldn't he breathe? Please say he didn't have broken ribs. He could die from trying to breathe if he had broken ribs. The guy was a silhouette in the car lights, kneeling down to Mike on the asphalt. He lifted Mike's hand, the one not holding onto his throbbing chest, into his own.

"Tell me! Where did you put it?"

No. Mike shook his head. No he wouldn't give it to them. It wasn't theirs to take. The guy growled and jerked his hand. The sound was like a rubber pipe falling out of place, a sort of suction noise, but all Mike could hear was his own scream. Someone covered his mouth to block the cry and tears pricked Mike's eyes. The pain snapping through his every nerve was worse than anything he'd ever felt before.

"Tell them where it is, Mike!"

Trevor, his face lit up by the headlights and yet covered in shadows, moved around the edge of the pack. Was he sorry for this? Was that what Mike heard? Was Trevor feeling bad? It's too late for that, he wanted to scream, but he could barely manage whimpering. He thought of Harvey, imagined him stopping a situation with a pen and paper, imagined him stopping this situation too. Harvey could save him. Harvey could –

"No use holding out, Ross. No hot shot lawyers here to save you this time!"

Mike let out the most pathetic noise his body could produce as he spotted the glint of a metal bat being held in someone's gloved grip. The hand was still covering his mouth, another hand holding his arm to his aching chest. He couldn't move. It hurt too much.

"You've got about two minutes before I lose my temper."

The knife shone so bright in the night. Mike was dizzy with pain, and blood rushed to his head in fear. Even the rush of adrenaline through his veins wasn't enough to help him shake off the hands holding him down, and the knife was coming closer. So close.

The tip of the blade broke through the skin on his shoulder, and his plea was lost in the leather glove that sucked up anything he could possibly say.

"Mike!"

Harvey's voice was so loud, even over the rush of blood in his ears. Mike's hand shot up to cover his shoulder and block it from the knife. His eyes opened and he found his panting breaths unhindered by mysterious hands.

"Mike?" Harvey was there, bent over him on the bed and holding his free hand – being careful of his mended finger.

"Harvey," Mike panted and found himself winded, his voice harsh. He felt like he was vibrating. His forehead knit together and he flattened his lips out, trying not to start crying. He wasn't in pain. He wasn't in danger. All of that panic and tension was in the past. He didn't need to cry. "Harvey," he gasped again, this time sucking in air afterward.

"It's okay, Mike. It's-," Harvey trailed off, gently pulling Mike's hand from its vice grip on his shoulder. Mike struggled to look where Harvey was staring, but he already knew what was there – had seen it in the mirror at the hospital.

Mike's sleeve had been pulled down, showing off his shoulder. A two inch scar blotted the skin there, still pink but mostly healed. Harvey reached out slowly to trace around it, and Mike winced in fear of pain that didn't come.

"Minor lacerations," Harvey murmured.

"Harvey." It was the only safe word, the only thing he knew he could say with any sort of assurance that it wouldn't get lost in translation between his brain and his mouth, but it seemed to be the only word he needed.

Harvey looked away from the wound with obvious force of will. His eyes met Mike's, and they were angry and protective and conflicted and that was all it took for Mike not to care about boundaries or what relationship they did or didn't have in the past. He reached out and pulled Harvey down. He was scared and Harvey was safety. Harvey would keep the nightmares at bay.

Unlike last time, Harvey barely hesitated at all before wrapping his arms around Mike. Mike needed this. He needed Harvey. He didn't know what Harvey's motivations were for taking him in after his accident, but Mike needed him. Harvey's voice brought him out of the darkness. Harvey's warmth kept the nightmares away. Harvey's arms stopped his panic.

"Harvey." He mumbled the name into the man's chest. Harvey shook his head, his cheek against Mike's hair, and Mike took a deep breath, holding back the panic still hiding in his throat. Harvey shook his head again, and Mike wondered what words he wasn't saying. What could he even say? Did Mike want him to say anything? No. He wanted Harvey to go back in time and stop him from leaving the office that night – to stop Mike from going home to whatever disaster Trevor had started.

But that was impossible... So right now all Mike wanted was for Harvey to stay with him, to stay with him every night until his memory returned and he could sort this all out. He didn't care how selfish it made him. He needed Harvey here. He couldn't take the nightmares.

* * *

Preview chapter 8:

Harvey didn't know what he expected when he walked into work that day, but it definitely wasn't a revolving door of concerned employees. All were asking the same question – how is Mike?

"Maybe Mike knows," Donna suggested and Harvey shot her a dangerous look.

"Mike barely remembers Pearson Hardman. How would he know where Trevor is?" he asked

"Hold up. Say that again," he said.

"Which part? That was kind of a long spiel." Donna's eyes raised up as she went back over everything she'd said in her mind.

"You said he thinks I can fix anything, that I'm his hero," Harvey clarified

He was halfway to the door when Mike spoke again. "Where's Grammy?"


	8. Chapter 8

Chapter 8

The distant sound of his alarm clock woke him the next morning. Harvey let out a short sigh, wishing he could sleep in, that he didn't have to go to work. He wished the god damn sun was up entirely before the alarm ripped him from sleep. He opened his eyes, wondering why the sound of his alarm was so far away, so soft.

One attempt to shift his position answered that. He was in Mike's bed, Mike tucked in close to him. Harvey remembered everything now – the way he'd come to check on Mike and found him begging and writhing, how he'd grabbed Mike's hand as he had earlier in hopes that it would help but it only made Mike grip his hand in a death vice instead of the blanket, and how he'd shouted Mike's name to bring him out of his nightmare.

He remembered seeing that scar for the first time, the one just below the v-neck collar of Mike's undershirt, the way Mike had grabbed for it just as he woke up. Harvey tried imagining the cause of it, the horrible way it had been inflicted – so bad it gave Mike nightmares. It made Harvey indescribably angry, made him want to take whatever weapon had been used and do the same to the one responsible. No... do worse.

Harvey looked down at Mike's sleeping face, so calm now. He remembered Mike grabbing onto him, like a child looking for their comfort blanket to chase away the demons at night, only this was so much more real, so much more validated and needed. And Harvey had clung back to Mike, because when they'd locked eyes, he'd seen all the terror the movies tried to portray, and he saw the desperation, and he saw someone he cared about in need.

He remembered Mike's voice, rough and scared and confused, repeating his name a dozen times until he finally gave in to sleep once more. And Harvey remembered silently promising never to move from where he was because Mike wasn't scared anymore. He didn't know what about him kept Mike's nightmares at bay, but he was willing to bring that peace to Mike – the same peace still showing now in the early hours of the morning.

The alarm clock kept going. Harvey rolled his eyes. He opened his mouth to call Mike out of his sleep when Mike beat him to it.

"Your alarm is really loud," the associate mumbled, face partly buried in Harvey's arm but more buried in the pillow underneath Harvey's arm.

"Good thing, too," Harvey said, voice quiet. "If it wasn't, we would never hear it all the way in here."

"You're going to work today, aren't you?" Mike grunted.

"Unfortunately. Besides normal work, I've got damage control to do if you want any sort of normalcy when you come back to work. Come on. I've got to get up." Harvey tugged and Mike let his boss pull away and detach from their snuggle session. And wow. Harvey had only snuggled with a choice number of people in this world, and their names were Mike Ross.

He was halfway to the door when Mike spoke again. "Where's Grammy?"

The amount of stress caused by that question should be impossible. Harvey shrugged lightly and did his best not to slow down on his trek to the door. "You bought her an apartment in Manhattan," he answered easily.

There was a beat of silence and then, "She's dead, isn't she?"

Harvey stopped, his hand on the doorknob. He let out a silent breath and only turned around when he heard Mike let out a choked noise.

"Listen, Mike. You finally had a good sleep. Let's save this for later, alright?" he tried.

"You don't have to baby me, Harvey," Mike said, and Harvey knew that, but he also knew what happened to Mike the first time he'd received this news. "I already knew."

"Come again?" Harvey asked. He was 100% positive he'd never let the cat out of the bag... Mike's gran being the cat, and wow that expression had never made him feel guilty before.

"Damn brain," Mike muttered. He sighed. "You never talk about her... Even when I asked why no one else could take me in, you avoided her as a possibility without explanation. I've mentioned her a few times, and you always switch topics. It doesn't take someone like me to put the pieces together. She's gone."

Harvey hated this amnesia. He never knew what to say anymore. Mike was going through old news, old memories for the first time, and Harvey could only stand by and watch. Last time, he'd sent Mike home and then came over to get high with him, but not this time. Mike was already on leave, and Harvey wasn't going to let him do drugs.

"You really did buy her an apartment," Harvey offered lamely.

"Go to work, Harvey," Mike ordered with some annoyance. Harvey couldn't blame him. He felt like an asshole, and he hadn't even really done anything.

"We can talk when I get ho-," Harvey began, but Mike sat up and tossed one of the pillows at him.

"I slept, Harvey! I didn't forget! I need to be alone so I can process things, alright?!" and the shouting was more of a shock than the pillow.

Harvey stared at Mike, who was all red faced and brow knit. He watched as Mike's tense body slumped and sank back against the headboard, his face easing out and then crumpling into sadness. Harvey frowned and wished for the millionth time that there was something he could do.

"I'm sorry. I didn't- I didn't mean to yell," Mike groaned. "I'm stressed. I just need some alone time."

Harvey nodded and lifted the pillow off the floor. "It's alright, Mike. It's a mood swing. Remember Dr. Fancy told us that was normal." He walked back and set the pillow on the foot of the bed. "Don't stress about it. It takes a lot more than some angry words to scare me away. I'll be home around eight and we can talk then. Okay?"

"Okay," Mike agreed. Harvey nodded and headed out again.

It was a lie. Harvey expected to be back around six, but he felt like coming home earlier than Mike would expect. He wondered what Mike got up to while he wasn't there, wondered if he'd be able to stop Mike before the living room needed to be mended this time. Part of him also wanted Mike to think he'd left work early to get back to him faster.

"And Harvey?" Mike called as Harvey swung the door open.

"Yeah, Mike?" Harvey turned around and backed up a step so he was one foot out of the room.

"Thanks... for last night. It really helped." Mike cleared his throat. He looked a little nervous. "I know that must have been weird for you and-."

"Mike," Harvey interrupted. He smiled a little to help Mike relax, and he thought he saw some of the worry leave the younger man's face. "Don't worry about it."

Worrying about the implications was Harvey's problem.

* * *

"Hey Harvey." Louis' arrival was not entirely surprising. "How's it goin? How's life treating you? Big case load?"

Harvey didn't know what he expected when he walked into work that day, but it definitely wasn't a revolving door of concerned employees. Before lunch hit, Harvey's office had been invaded by Donna, Jessica, Rachel, James or Jason or whoever, their head I.T. guy, a girl from logistics, the mail cart guy, and Norma. All were asking the same question – how is Mike?

"He's fine, Louis," Harvey grunted out, not even waiting for Louis to ask the real question.

The real surprise was how easily Louis let his facade go. "Really? He didn't look too good yesterday. What's wrong with him? I smell something big. It couldn't just be a car accident, right? Is it a conspiracy or something? I can help, you know."

"Whoa now. Reign in your conspiracy theories. It was just a car accident, Louis. He's got a concussion. Yesterday was a test run to see if he could handle working, and he failed. I told him to stay home and rest some more." It was the same story he'd told everyone. The same story he wished he could blow right open.

Part of Harvey wanted to say Mike was sick and staying with him, to tell everyone who asked that he was Mike's confidant, his support system. The other part of him was logical. No mention of Mike being at Harvey's house. No mention of amnesia.

"Come on, Harvey. I saw the head gash. It's gotta be more serious than that," Louis tried again, and he did at least seem genuinely concerned for Mike. That kept Harvey from getting too annoyed with him.

"Louis. It's nothing. I'll have Donna call and check on him tonight for an update if you're really that curious, but otherwise I really do have work to do. Actual cases, you know." Harvey liked to end the line of questioning early. He didn't want anyone poking their noses into Mike's business, and he didn't want to be the middleman for those problems anyway. He couldn't wait for Mike to get his memory back so all of this would blow over.

"No, no. No need." Louis looked flustered. He waved his hands in tiny motions to brush away the idea. "Don't want to mother hen the kid, right? Well when you next talk to him, tell him some of the associates are worried about him and hope he comes back soon."

And with that, Louis skittered from the office. Harvey couldn't help but be impressed. All of the visitors he'd had and all of the associates... Mike really had reached out to a lot of people in the company. He'd sent out roots, planting himself as a constant in these people's lives. Harvey was definitely impressed, but there was this heavy feeling as well – the realization that Mike didn't have to remember everything for Harvey's sake but for everyone's sakes. Sometimes it was easy to forget the world existed outside of himself, Mike, and Donna.

The police showed up just after lunch, asking questions about the shooting the previous afternoon. Harvey described the shooter in detail. To the cops, he explained everything – about Mike in the hospital from a near fatal attack, the amnesia, the shooter aiming for him, and about Mike's panic attack that drove Harvey from the scene before the police could get a story from him there. They asked about Mike, what trouble he might have gotten into, but Harvey shook his head and told them it wasn't about Mike. Mike's ex-best friend was the one they should look for. He gave a description of Trevor, and the police promised to find him and figure out what was going on. The suggestion they gave regarding Mike was that he should lay low, stay home. Yeah, exactly. They said it as though Harvey hadn't been planning that already this whole time.

No one knew where Mike really was, and that was the safest thing right now.

After the police left, Harvey took out his phone and dialed Trevor's number again. Donna came in when he started pacing and redialing.

"Trying the ex again?" she asked and held out a glass of water.

Harvey eyed the liquid. "Is this you trying to tell me I'm being too emotional?"

"No." Donna rolled her eyes and set the glass on his desk. "Now is the little jerk answering his phone?"

"No." Harvey ended his third attempt and set his phone on his desk, away from the water. "It's been a while. If he were found dead, one of the nurses I got in contact with would have called or the police would have notified me from when I called two weeks ago. I can't wrap my head around it. Where's this bastard gone?"

"Maybe Mike knows," Donna suggested and Harvey shot her a dangerous look.

"Mike barely remembers Pearson Hardman. How would he know where Trevor is?" he asked. Mike hadn't brought up finding Trevor since the hospital and Harvey didn't want to plant that idea in his head again.

"Mike remembers Pearson Hardman?" Donna asked, perking up like an excited kitten.

Harvey sighed and his expression turned tired. Donna deflated but the curiosity on her face never changed.

"Sort of. He said he remembers our first case together and how we met," he said.

Donna smiled. "But that's great?... Isn't that great? Why isn't this great? You're frowning."

"He knows about his grandmother," Harvey explained with a heavy drop of his shoulders.

"Oh." Donna's shoulders sank as well, but before she could say anything, Harvey was speaking again.

"And his nightmares are getting worse. I literally had to shout at him this morning to get him out of it. I don't know what to do with him." Harvey knew what he wanted to do with the ones who'd hurt Mike. He knew what he wanted to do each night to keep Mike's nightmares at bay. But he didn't know how to help Mike in the long run. Harvey wouldn't always be there.

"Well you can't send him anywhere else!" Donna exclaimed, as though reading other potential options in Harvey's pauses. "You're all he's got. He needs you."

"What do you mean?" Harvey leaned back against his desk and grabbed the water, sipping it slowly.

"I mean the kid trusted you without knowing who you were and now he's got the memories back of when he worshipped the ground you walked on. Mike's going to expect you to fix everything. Harvey Specter, the man who can stop a hostage situation with a pen and paper, remember? You were like his hero," Donna explained. Harvey pushed off the desk, a sudden thought exploding in his mind.

"Hold up. Say that again," he said, setting the water back down so he wouldn't spill it by making wild hand motions.

"Which part? That was kind of a long spiel." Donna's eyes raised up as she went back over everything she'd said in her mind.

"You said he thinks I can fix anything, that I'm his hero," Harvey clarified.

Donna huffed out a short breath. "Well duh. Haven't you noticed? He has a problem, he comes to you." Seeing Harvey's confused and surprised expression, her eyes softened and she smiled. "You're like his saving grace, Harvey. You took that kid off the streets and gave him a place to belong."

Harvey would marvel over his own greatness at that feat later. Right now his mind was spinning. He was Mike's hero. His presence kept Mike's nightmares at bay – nightmares about what happened. And this morning, before he'd gotten Mike to wake up, Mike had been crying something about no one being there to save him. Just the way he used to mumble Harvey's name in his sleep at the hospital.

"Damn it," Harvey grumbled out loud.

"What? Again, why is this a bad thing?" Donna asked, holding her hands up in expectation of clarification.

"He was waiting for me," Harvey said. When Donna didn't look appeased by that answer, he gave her an annoyed look and groaned. "When they were tearing into him. He was waiting for me to save him. I was literally his last thought before his amnesia."

"Strangely romantic but also really sad. Are you sure?" Donna asked.

"About as sure as I am that it's all Trevor's fault." Which also meant he had no technical proof, but he could feel it in his gut.

Donna's touched smile was almost making him uncomfortable. Then she snapped to attention and got serious. "So you gotta save him then," she said.

"Excuse me?" Harvey asked, eyebrows knitting.

"Mike's in trouble. You're his iconic hero. He's waiting for you to save the day. Once he knows he's safe, maybe his memory will come back," she explained. At his look she pouted. "What? The nurse said amnesia's not a science. Why can't this one have a romantic, book worthy ending?"

"Because I'm not a hero, Mike's no damsel, and we're not romantically involved. Mike likes Rachel, remember?" Harvey pointed out, even motioning out the glass to the offices.

Donna smirked. "So does that mean you like Mike? You got a thing for your associate? How textbook romance novel is that?"

"Shut up, Donna," Harvey said and turned away from her, going to his wall of records.

"Doesn't sound like a denial to me. So listen, forget the music. Let's just skip to the part where you rescue Mike and have a shotgun wedding. Go home and ask him where Trevor is, and you can leave the bastard half dead in a ditch outside the hospital while you ride off with Mike on a white horse." Donna was getting far too excited about this.

"That's ridiculous," Harvey said, pulling the Spinners off the shelf and moving to the player. "First of all, I don't have a white horse and neither does Mike, and I bet the rental fees on those things are outrageous. Secondly, I'm telling you Mike doesn't know where Trevor is. And for the third issue, Mike and I are not one of your romance novels. We're business associates, and right now we're barely even that. Besides, aren't those books just flowery covers that all end in clichés and sex?"

"No comment. And anyway, can't you at least TRY to ask him?" Donna huffed and put her hands on her hips.

Harvey groaned and smoothed down his hair while the music began to fill the room. "Why are you so certain he'll know anything?" he asked.

"Because every time Trevor shows up, he doesn't just show up once. He makes multiple appearances – you know, like how bad things always come in threes. You really think he's going to leave Mike alone once he finds out Mike's alive? I don't think so. If he's behind this, he'll know about the attempted shooting, which means he'll know Mike's up and moving. Mike either knows where he might hide or Trevor will come out of hiding to meet him. Either way, Mike is a better asset than the cops," Donna said and gave Harvey a look that scolded him with a 'Really? The cops? You went to the cops?' agenda.

"Fine." Harvey tapped the record sleeve against the side of the player and then set it down forcefully. "Fine, I'll ask Mike about Trevor. But in return, you stop with all the romance novel parallels. Deal?"

"So long as I can still draw perpendicular references," Donna replied with a grin and walked out of the office, the clicking of her heels sounding far too pleased.

Harvey sighed and looked down at the spinning vinyl before him. He and Mike were no romance novel. Anyone could see that. Harvey could see that. He was Mike's hero, but he was not Mike's prince or mysterious detective or wandering warlock or brooding vampire or however those books went.

He didn't want Mike to know where Trevor was. He didn't want Trevor seeking Mike out, and he definitely didn't want Mike answering Trevor's call... but Donna was right. When it came to hunting Trevor down, Mike was the perfect bait.

"Damn it." Harvey lifted the needle off the record, unable to listen to the music any longer, and just watched the disc spin.

* * *

When five thirty hit, Harvey was snapping his case load shut and moving out of the office. Some associates assumed he was going to meet a client, and that's what Donna would tell them if they asked, but he wasn't coming back to the office later and he wasn't going to meet a client. Not really.

Mike wasn't a client. No matter how much importance Donna was putting on Mike when it came to finding Trevor, Mike wasn't someone Harvey had to go close for the sake of the case.

At first, Harvey thought of going straight home, but then he asked Ray to swing by Mike's place first. He wanted to look around the area, see if there were any hints to what happened. Mike's bike was gone – either taken by his attackers or by some kids or some looter, but it was a lost cause. Harvey could look for signs of the struggle though. Why had no one noticed and called the police?

Ray parked the car just down the street from the entrance to Mike's building and turned around to lay a sad look on Harvey.

"It's not your fault, you know," he said. "You don't have to solve this one. You got the police involved now."

"That's where you're wrong, Ray. If I don't solve it, it'll never get solved." Harvey grabbed his jacket off the seat beside him and was about to get out of the car when he saw it. "Ray, turn around," he said.

The driver spun around and searched for what Harvey saw, and it wasn't hard to find. Mike. He was coming out of his apartment building, cell phone to his ear. He looked distracted and maybe even angry. He ripped the phone away from his ear and shoved it in his pocket before looking around for something or someone.

Ray ducked a little, but Harvey knew Mike wouldn't recognize the car from this far away, and he wouldn't be able to see inside with this lighting. Mike's memory was good, but he'd only see the town car from the side and only for a brief moment.

Mike shook his head and then held it, and Harvey knew he'd made himself dizzy. Dumb kid was pushing himself too hard. He probably still had his concussion. Then Mike was on the move, hailing a cab that came around the corner.

"Follow him," Harvey ordered, and Ray jumped into action. Harvey watched the taxi move in front of them as though taking his eyes off it for a second would cause it to disappear. Why had Mike been at his apartment? Where was Mike going now?

Harvey shook his head gently. He knew. Donna had been right. There was only one person Mike would be angry with on the phone, only one person he'd leave safety to see... because Mike didn't have anyone else. Because Mike was the only one who'd always answer their call – Trevor.

Harvey's stomach burned.

* * *

Preview chapter 9:

To be fair, sneaking out hadn't been on the top of Mike's to-do list, but when your no-good ex-best friend pops back up on the map after going missing for over two weeks and he's the only clue you have to what the hell happened to you... you agree to meet him no matter how pissed you are at him.

"When you see me, you always get tense or sad looking. You feel responsible for me, but... You make me relaxed but I'm just stressing you out, aren't I?" Mike frowned deeper.

Mike gasped and curled in on himself. He rolled, making it onto his stomach, and wiggled, trying to crawl away. He kept thinking he just needed to get away from here, hide somewhere. There was no escaping. He could feel it in the bruised part of his gut, in the sticky oozing wound on his shoulder. Fear clouded every sense that wasn't absorbed in pain.

"I'm here for you, whether you accept that or not."


	9. Chapter 9

Chapter 9

To be fair, sneaking out hadn't been on the top of Mike's to-do list. It had been there, no doubt, but not at the top. His mind kept telling him it was a bad idea, was asking for trouble, and yet there was this tiny part of his brain, somewhere near where he felt the pull of memories, that told him he needed to go home. It had something to do with Grammy, and he spent a good portion of time trying to figure out what at his apartment could possibly have to do with Grammy.

Grammy was dead. She was gone, and Mike couldn't even remember when or how. It hurt. It hurt so bad, and all alone in Harvey's house, he mourned. He wanted drugs. He wanted pain meds. He wanted alcohol. He wanted anything to make him feel less. But nothing was available to him. He could go buy drugs, but what about Harvey? Harvey said no drugs. Well screw Harvey! No, wait. Harvey was right. Drugs had never moved Mike to a good place. In fact they almost got him arrested... again.

Alcohol. Harvey had one bottle of beer left – a bud light with lime, something much too common to be found in this fancy fridge – and two bottles of scotch in a cabinet that looked way too expensive for Mike to even consider touching. Harvey must never get sick or get headaches either because there wasn't one tiny pill of Tylenol or Advil or anything in the house.

If Grammy was gone, what about all her things? Where would they have put her few books? Her jewelry? Her photographs?

And that's when Mike knew why he needed to go home. They would have given her things to Mike. Her things were at Mike's place. He checked the clock. Harvey would be home at eight, he'd said. It was five thirty. Mike could make it over and back with plenty of time before Harvey returned. He'd never have to know Mike left.

Grabbing his phone in case Harvey checked in on him, his wallet, and his keys, Mike hurried out of the house and down to the street. There was a cab already on the curb, and it made Mike thankful for rich people always needing rides.

Within twenty minutes, he was at his old place. He stopped outside the door, key in hand. Old place? He still lived here. Just because Harvey was letting him crash in his condo didn't mean this apartment wasn't exactly where he'd end up once his memories came back. There was no guarantee Harvey wouldn't put him back here before his memories came back either.

He slid the key into the lock and opened the door, part of him expecting to find someone inside – Trevor with a stolen key, the man with the gun from yesterday, his grandmother sitting in the dark – but there was no one.

He flipped on the lights to find everything where it was when he left – not the way he remembered it per say, but definitely where it had been when he'd come in with Harvey. It felt familiar in the way a room does when your parents don't touch anything while you're away at college, but it felt different, like an old photo or a model home.

The first thing he did was check his pantry, pulling out a bag of chips he wasn't surprised he still ate. He opened them and reached in for a handful as he continued to walk around. Grammy's things were here. He knew they were. Among the papers and books and magazines and clutter, he knew he'd find whatever it was he was looking for. But looking at the state of his apartment, the way it looked even in its organized state, he felt a twinge of apathy. Harvey's condo was a league away from this place. It was a whole different level. Mike had no problem with his apartment, had lived there for years, but Harvey didn't like Mike's place. He'd made that clear. Their homes were like representations of themselves. If Harvey didn't like his place, how could Harvey ever like Mike?

Mike shook his head. He wasn't here to realize why he never wanted to bring up his feelings with Harvey. He was here for Grammy. Moving into his room and ignoring the queasy feeling that rose up just like during his last visit, Mike scanned for any clue to where he would keep something precious, like Grammy's jewelry. He set the bag of chips on his mattress and went to his closet. In the top corner was a big blue box with a leather tie. He pulled it out and set it by the chips before opening it. Inside was a stack of old essays from before being kicked out of college for cheating. They all had large 100% marks on them or check marks or 10/10 for his one Intro to Law professor who never had anything worth more than 10 points. They were his best works.

He reached in and grabbed the stack as neatly as he could, pulling it out and revealing the there was more to the box than just papers. Under them was another, smaller box – his grandmother's jewelry box. This hadn't been here three years ago, but Mike had always thought it'd be a great place to hide things – under a stack of seemingly pointless papers. Turns out, he'd followed through on that idea.

A sigh of relief left him that he hadn't known was coming. The jewelry box was there and so were all the gems inside. He poked through them, remembering each time Grammy had worn them – the bear shaped one he'd gotten her the Christmas before he'd moved out, the long antique necklace with a sapphire she got from her second husband, the locket that was two inches in diameter that Mike had given her four weeks ag-... Mike frowned. Four years ago. It only felt like four weeks. After that memory dump of his first case with Harvey, he knew time had passed... a lot. But he couldn't help still feeling like he was back in time.

Mike sighed sadly this time and hooked the locket around his neck. He couldn't take all of Grammy's things with him to Harvey's place, but he could take the one with a picture of the two of them in it. Just knowing the rest of it was safe was enough for him. He put everything else back, locked it up, and hid it back under his essays. He was just setting it back in the closet when his phone rang.

Shit. Harvey was checking on him.

Except it wasn't Harvey. It was an unknown number.

"Hello?" he answered.

"Mike! You're really okay!"

Mike's eyes narrowed as he glared at the closing closet door. "Trevor," he replied bluntly.

* * *

Mike wouldn't say he was a dumb person or a gullible man, but when your no-good ex-best friend pops back up on the map after going missing for over two weeks and he's the only clue you have to what the hell happened to you... you agree to meet him no matter how pissed you are at him.

The cab stopped on the corner of East 42nd Street and Park Avenue, just outside of Grand Central. As he got out of the cab, Mike checked his watch. Half past six. He'd give Trevor until seven, but then he was going back to Harvey's. He didn't trust Trevor as far as he could throw him right now. He'd switch cabs on the way back to make sure he wasn't followed.

He slipped the cab fare in through the window and told the old man driving to keep the change – which would amount to eighty three cents, and Mike didn't care enough about eighty three cents. As he stood back up, he slipped Grammy's locket under his shirt and zipped up his jacket. For one thing, Trevor had teased him in the past for wearing women's jewelry, and for another, he wasn't about to invite Trevor to steal it. He knew Trevor was always looking to make some quick cash, and that was the old Trevor. This Trevor was even more rash.

Trevor was waiting across from the station, leaning against the crosswalk sign in front of the glowing Pershing Square sign. For a moment, Mike slipped his hand in his pocket, around his phone, and debated calling Harvey. Harvey would be great back up, but he'd probably be pissed Mike was putting himself in potential danger. Harvey hated Trevor. If he came, he'd probably cause a scene or just make Trevor so angry that Mike wouldn't get any information out of him... They used to be friends. Maybe Mike could still use that leverage.

When Trevor saw Mike coming, he pushed off his post and waved, a friendly smile on his face. But Mike wasn't smiling, and Trevor dropped his grin a bit by the time they were in front of each other.

"Mike," he started. "I'm glad you're okay."

"Cut the crap, Trevor. Where have you been?" Mike stuffed his hands in his pockets and glanced around, wary of a potential ambush despite the public location.

Trevor sighed. "I really am glad you're okay. I know you blame me, but at least I took you to the hospital afterward, right?"

"You left me in a ditch and hoped they found me," Mike corrected, eyes snapping back to his old friend. "And I'm not okay, so answer the question. Where have you been?"

"Not o-... I've been hiding! Like you should be. I knew they didn't have anyone at the hospital who could get to you, but then you get out and you just go back to work? What, you think they'd just leave you alone?" Trevor was glaring at Mike now, but his attempt to keep his voice from being too loud told Mike he didn't want company. This wasn't an ambush then.

"I didn't think anything, Trevor," Mike snapped. "I don't even know what they want. Don't you understand? You left me half dead in a ditch, bleeding from my head, and you thought I'd just wake up okay?" He took his hands from his pockets and held them up, presenting himself to Trevor. "I can't even sleep right anymore. I haven't been to my apartment in weeks. I can hardly remember that night."

"You don't remember being hit by a car?" Trevor asked skeptically. He was keeping his cool better than Mike, but Mike knew Trevor. Trevor was just as angry with Mike as Mike was with Trevor.

"Barely!" Mike took a deep breath to calm down and lower his voice. "All I remember is pain and fear and you standing on the sidelines, letting it all happen as though you were one of them – just another monster with a metal baseball bat or a knife or hell, maybe you were the one driving the car."

"Mike!" and at least Trevor had the decency to sound offended.

"Why are you in hiding, Trevor?" Mike asked, cutting off any further complaints.

Trevor frowned, his forehead hard. "I didn't want to die too," he huffed and Mike eyes narrowed. "I thought they had literally murdered you, Mike, and I told them I'd get rid of the body but really I put you in front of a hospital as some last ditch effort to help you live and then I ran off and hid so I wouldn't be the next body. Are you happy now? You know the truth."

"Not quite," Mike said. He was so angry right now, so upset that this man he'd once called a friend had become such a beast. He couldn't understand why Trevor would ever let people do that to him. How could Trevor just stand by and watch it happen?

"My phone's been off so they can't track it. That's why I called you from the payphone. The car belonged to Jones. He's the one who hit you, not me. I used the car to drop you off by the hospital and then I left it on their turf so they'd get it back. I've been hiding out in a God damned motel for nearly three weeks with rats for roommates. Are you trying to get enough to arrest me for something? What else do you want to know, Mike?" Trevor threw his arms out to the side in exasperation and growled.

"What do they want from me?" Mike asked. Now Trevor was the one who looked angry and Mike had the composer.

"What do they-" Trevor laughed ironically. "The damn account number, Mike. They're like the mob. They want their money."

"Why would I have the account number for a someone's money?" Mike asked. This didn't make any sense. He'd never had a run-in with any mob, not even the drug chain people Trevor worked for. He only ever dealt with the pawns, the ones selling weed hidden in newspapers on the corner by the hot dog cart.

Wait. What?

"Nicole accidentally gave it to me and I on purpose gave it to you, but I don't know what you did with it. Believe me, though, if I'd known what it was, I would have given it right back. To hell if she was married when we did it. Her fiancé can't be as bad as her dad." Trevor ruffled up his already tousled hair with both hands.

"Well I don't know where it is, or I'd give it to you," Mike said.

"Really? Cause you were pretty adamant about not giving it up that night, and you knew exactly where it was. Now you're the liar. Why don't you just give the damn thing to me and I can give it to Rourke so we can both stop hiding?" Trevor suggested.

"I told you I don't know where it is," Mike repeated. He was getting a headache.

"Mike," and Trevor's voice was gentle. He reached out for Mike, but Mike jerked away violently. "Mike." Less gentle now. "Just tell me where you hid it and I can make this all go away."

_"Tell them where it is, Mike!"_

"I remember," Mike said, voice low and dark. Trevor looked excited for a moment, and Mike felt his blood run cold with poison. "I remember your face that night – nothing but shadows, and not an ounce of fear on it. If you want anything from me – you'll have to do better than killing me next time."

"You're an asshole," Trevor growled out. "You don't trust me. I get it. But believe me on this – either you give it to me or they're going to come take it from you... and you don't want to be around when they do."

"Who the hell are they, Trevor?" Mike asked, balling his hands into fists and hiding them in his pockets so he wouldn't actually punch Trevor in the middle of the street.

"Exactly who they seemed to be," Trevor answered. "Surries." He took a step backward, taking his eyes off Mike for the briefest of moments. He looked too serious, too angry, to pass as an innocent bystander to anyone who took the time to look, but he was making his retreat – Mike could tell. "Just get the hell off the streets until you get your head out of your ass, Mike. Give up the account info or next time you really will be dead."

Trevor turned then, morphing into a crowd almost instantly, and Mike was surprised how quickly he lost sight of his ex-friend.

He felt too tense, too pent up, too full of information he didn't understand, and he wanted to punch something and shout out loud and fall to the ground and cry like a kid on his grandmother's lap. But then the crowd shifted and he saw Harvey leaning on the side of the overpass, staring at him as though saying "I know you're dumb, but that's okay." Mike let out a huge sigh, the tension rolling out of his shoulders and he walked over to his boss.

He should probably be worried Harvey would be pissed, but he wasn't. Harvey wasn't wearing his disappointed face. If fact, he was holding out a pretzel for Mike, and Mike didn't even care where he got it from, because Harvey was here of all places.

"Sorry," Mike said, taking the pretzel. Harvey shrugged, and Mike knew he wouldn't want to scream anymore once they got home.

Harvey motioned over his shoulder and popped a piece of salted goodness into his mouth. "Come on."

"You're not mad?" Mike asked, following behind.

"Of course I am. You went out without me. Not only that, you met with Trevor of all people. What were you gonna do if he pulled out a gun or a god damn crowbar? It was more risk than it was worth... but I'm also not a child. I'm not going to hold it against you any longer than you deserve. Did you find out anything from him?" Harvey asked.

"Surries," Mike answered, tearing his pretzel in half and biting down on one side.

"Speak English," Harvey ordered. He stopped by the town car and opened the door. "Other side," he told Mike.

Mike groaned but did as he was told. "They're a drug gang Trevor used to sell for. Their boss is Lawrence Surry, so the gang members are called Surries," Mike explained. The car pulled away from the curb. "I've never met any of them. Trevor only ever told me about them."

"So what do they want from you?" Harvey looked across the car at Mike. "I mean, I assume you're bringing them up because they have something to do with your attempted murder."

Mike pretended the anger in that last statement was aimed at the Surries and not at him. "Yes." He nodded. "Trevor says I have the bank account information for one of their stashes... which is ridiculous. I don't have anything like that."

"He probably told them you had it," Harvey grunted, looking forward. He shifted in his seat, unease in his shoulders. It was so different from the calm Mike felt at seeing Harvey on that street corner.

Mike frowned and looked at his pretzel, held in his lap. "You know... when I see you, Harvey, I get this... rush of relief. I feel stable around you, like we're two pieces of a puzzle that fit together. Like we can do anything as long as we do it as a team." He looked up at Harvey to find the older lawyer staring back at him with an expression as though Mike had slapped him. "But you don't feel like that around me, do you?"

"What?" The hurt look left Harvey's eyes and was replaced by simple confusion. Mike had knocked him off his game.

"When you see me, you always get tense or sad looking. You feel responsible for me, but... You make me relaxed but I'm just stressing you out, aren't I?" Mike frowned deeper. "You can drop me back at my apartment, you know? I don't want to distract you from work or life or anything."

And it hurt. He'd admit it. Harvey's avoidance of Grammy wasn't the only thing Mike had noticed. Harvey never breathed easy around him, never relaxed completely... except for that one time in bed. He was always thinking so hard, his shoulders always so tight. He frowned a lot when he looked at Mike, especially when he thought Mike couldn't see him.

It hurt because Mike remembered how much he liked Harvey, remembered the ache from his memory of the party, how much he wanted Harvey to want him too. He wanted Harvey to think of him as an equal, a partner,... something more. But Harvey was so different from Mike. He was so much more serious. He was a businessman.

"Mike," Harvey said, drawing Mike from his thoughts. He looked guilty now. It radiated off every plane in his face. "I am responsible," he said. "Despite whatever's going through that genius brain of yours right now, I have to keep you safe. I need to... I want to." He spoke quietly, as though he were afraid of being overheard. "You are my work and life... No wait. That came out wrong." He stopped to grumble. "What I'm trying to say is... I failed you, Mike. You got hurt, and I need to fix it."

Mike took a deep breath and tried to quell the fluttering feeling in his chest. This defensive side of Harvey, the side that felt like it was protecting Mike... Mike had to admit, it felt good. It felt... hot. He shook his head. Now was not the time to be aroused.

"We _are_ a team," Harvey stated clearly, his voice strong. "I'm here for you, whether you accept that or not."

"I know," Mike said. "I just don't want you to feel obligated."

* * *

Night fell quickly. They ordered a pizza for dinner because Mike apparently made an offhand comment once that it was his go-to food for lazy nights. It didn't feel like a lazy night, but Harvey was the boss. Mike was buzzing. He told Harvey everything that happened between him and Trevor and then had to explain why he hadn't called Harvey first.

After their long discussion about Surries and Trevor, Harvey told Mike to go to bed. They both needed to sleep. Mike shrugged and agreed, but he didn't much want to go to bed. He went through the motions – changing his clothes, brushing his teeth, whatever – but he just laid in bed, staring at the ceiling afterward.

Surries. No wonder they'd been so violent. Trevor always told Mike how he walked on eggshells around them, not wanting to push any wrong buttons. They were dangerous. That's why Trevor didn't work for them very long. But according the calendar, that was... four years ago when Trevor broke it off with that group. Why were they only showing up now? Why would Trevor tell them Mike had anything of theirs?

The door to the room opened, drawing Mike's attention, and Harvey slowly stepped inside. He shut the door by leaning back against it. For a long moment, the two just stared at one another in the dim lighting. Mike's heart hummed.

"Harvey," he said, voice too loud in the quiet. His own name seemed to wake the lawyer up, and he pushed away from the door. He moved calmly to the bed and knelt down on the edge. Mike shifted over, allowing Harvey room to lay down.

Mike watched Harvey for a moment, but the older man was facing up, eyes shut, so Mike eventually did the same. Harvey had come in of his own free will, he reminded himself. He hadn't asked Harvey to come... but here he was. Mike felt like his heartbeat was strong enough to shake the bed, and he worried Harvey could feel it. But Harvey didn't say anything or do anything, so it was all in Mike's head... at least most of the way.

Harvey doesn't like you, Mike told himself. Not in that way at least. Stop being a girl and go to bed.

But now he was filled with an entirely different nervous energy. Before it was the gang and Trevor, but now it was Harvey. It was all of them, running around playing tag in his brain, and he needed them to stop, wanted them to all quiet down, but they just got louder. Trevor's face in the darkness, Trevor's face when Mike revealed knowledge of his social security number. Harvey face when he blew away Mike's worries and said he'd protect Mike, Harvey's face when he stopped a potential panic attack and promised Mike no one would find out he was a fraud. Rachel in the doorway, telling him Grammy was dead, like the police officers who told you that you could never go home again.

Fingers found his hand in the dark, slipped over his slightly curled fist and forced their way in. Mike's heart calmed just a bit, his thoughts focused on those fingers. Harvey's fingers maneuvered their way between Mike's, until Harvey was holding Mike's hand under the blanket. It felt so intimate, clouding Mike's mind so there was no room for fear.

"You're safe here, Mike," Harvey whispered in the dark, and Mike wasn't sure if Harvey knew he was still awake. It made Mike wonder if maybe his heart really had beat too loudly, if maybe he'd made some sign of discomfort... or if maybe Harvey just wanted to hold his hand.

He smiled at the ceiling. He did feel safe. Unbelievably safe. And all those voices and faces had leveled out into a steady sea instead of the torrent from before. His gripped Harvey's hand, a silent thank you, and took a slow, deep breath.

He took a second breath. Then a third. He imagined sinking into his pillow in the stillness of his room, slipping away into a delicate and comfortable darkness, and felt the edges of his mind blur with the promise of sleep.

* * *

When he rolled his bike through his apartment door, he already knew trouble would be waiting for him. The lock had been picked, but he had a pretty good idea of who did it. And when Mike stepped over the threshold, none other than Trevor was sitting on his couch... watching sports.

"Haven't we done this already?" Mike asked, anger already seeping into his gut.

"Yeah." Trevor stood up, switching off the TV as he did. "But this time it's gonna be a little different."

From his bedroom, a man stepped out. His hair was black and buzzed. His lips were chapped and he had rough spots on his hands Mike could see from the across the room. In his hand was a metal bat.

"What did you do now?" Mike asked, fear squishing out the anger inside him. Someone bumped him from behind, forcing him entirely into the apartment. It was a skinny black guy with his hair back in a ponytail. "Trevor, what did you do!?"

"Nothin you can't fix," Trevor answered. He stood up and held a hand to halt the guy with the bat. "Hang on, Larry. I'll get it out of him."

"No," Larry with the bat spat back. "I'll get it out of him."

He moved forward and the black guy shifted around in front of Mike as well. It left the door open, but Mike doubted he'd be able to run fast enough to escape anyway.

"Where is it?" Larry asked.

"Where's what?" Mike asked, squaring his shoulders, trying to look bigger. Trevor smirked and shook his head in the background. He probably recognized Mike's defensive stance from every other fight he got them into.

"The microSD card with all our money on it," the black guy answered, and his voice was higher than Mike would have imagined. "Trevor said you've got it."

"Well Trevor's a backstabbing liar, so-," Mike started, but Larry intervened. He moved quickly into Mike's space, knuckles meeting Mike's cheekbone. The only reason Mike didn't stumble and fall was his grip on his bike. It stung though, and he could taste the first signs of copper on his tongue.

Larry shook out his hand and stepped back. "Listen, I don't have time for you. Let me explain. My sister was in charge of hiding the card. She kept it on her at all times. A couple years ago, your lousy friend here nicked it from her."

"She dropped it," Trevor offered up.

"Shut up, Trevor," Larry snarled, never taking his eyes off Mike. "Swear, you never can keep your trap shut." They were dangerous eyes. While they watched him, Mike had no chance at running. "Anyways, Clap Trap says he gave it to you. She kept it in her necklace."

"Well the only necklaces I've got are my grandmother's." Mike's voice hid a wince. Speaking moved his cheek and hurt, confirming the fact that something on the inside had been cut open. His whole cheek was going to swell up. He just knew it.

"Any of those a locket?" Larry asked, annoyance creeping in. "And don't try anything funny, Mike. Trevor told us about your lawyer butt buddy. We've watched you long enough. He ain't nowhere in the area and you ain't gonna stop us with some lawsuit."

Mike swallowed heavily. "Look. I've got a locket, but I'm telling you there's no SD card in it. It's got a photo of my grandmother and me in it." Mike gripped his bike's handle in one hand and the seat in the other.

"I'll be the judge of that. Give me the necklace." Larry held out his hand, a fading handprint in its place on the bat.

"No," Mike said, taking a step back. The black guy moved a step forward to match it, but Larry motioned for him to wait. "It's not yours."

"I'll decide if it's mine or not. Now hand it over." This time Larry took a step forward.

"I'm not going to do that," Mike replied, taking a matching step back. The necklace wasn't what they wanted. But it was real gold, so he didn't doubt they'd take it anyway.

Larry swung the bat out and took out a plaster lucky cat Mike had won in Chinatown. Mike swallowed heavily and did his best not to squirm.

"You can tear this place apart. You're not going to find it." Maybe he shouldn't be challenging them, but he couldn't help it. He was playing defense.

"Oh we already did," Larry huffed out and smiled something wicked. "Went through all the drawers and shit. But in case things go bad tonight, we didn't want someone thinking you went out in a robbery... so Trevor helped us put everything back."

"Thanks, bud," Mike said with a sneer at Trevor. "But you'll never find it, and it's not yours."

"You're going to tell me where it is, Ross. You're going to tell me where you hid it or I'm going to break each of your fingers until you do," Larry threatened, voice rising in his anger at being opposed. The cold fear in Mike's gut was a tidal wave and he was getting sea sick.

"Just give it to them, Mi-" Trevor said, and Larry's growl drowned out the end of his sentence.

Larry spun on him. "Trevor, again? I swear to Jesus, if you don't hold your tongue, I'm gonna fuckin rip it out! Do you get me?"

Trevor was agreeing, but Mike wasn't waiting. He backed up out the door and was at the stairs before he heard the first shout of complaint. The black guy rounded on the stairs first, but Mike was already at the bottom and pushing out the building's doors.

Where could he go? No question about it. He'd go to Harvey's. It wasn't that far, and he could avoid traffic with his bike. Harvey lived in a nice place, so they wouldn't risk violence there. Plus Harvey would know what to do. He'd come up with a plan. They'd come up with something together – find a way to end this in a civil way and not a way that ended up with Mike being beaten with a bat.

Mike was riding past the alley one block down when he heard the tires squeal from down in the darkness. The Corvette connected with Mike full on. The only part it didn't catch was the back wheel of the bike. Then Mike was in the air, bike disengaging from his body and collapsing to the ground. Mike hit the asphalt and slid until he was almost on the other side of the street. His whole side and back burned through his suit. Shit. The suit.

The Corvette rolled forward toward him, its headlights illuminating him. It was the only car moving on the entire block. Mike's bike was in front of it, but it just rolled over the front wheel, bending it too far out of place to ever fix. As it bounced over the frame, a square of light shone underneath it, giving just enough glow to show Mike the car was blue before the lights blinded him.

He'd been hit by a damn car while escaping a gang. He'd curse his luck, but he had to get up and move first. He pushed himself halfway up before he dropped back down again. He hissed and squeezed his eyes shut. Pain came from everywhere on his side but mostly from his chest. Shit. No, he had to keep moving.

"Where'd you hide it, Ross?"

His gasped for air, his eyes springing open. Gravel bit into his cheek as he forced himself to roll over on the side of the street. His chest hurt so bad. He couldn't breathe right. Why couldn't he breathe? Please say he didn't have broken ribs. He could die from trying to breathe if he had broken ribs. He held his arm over his chest as though trying to keep his lungs from falling out.

The guy was a silhouette in the car lights, kneeling down to Mike on the asphalt, but Mike recognized Larry by his voice. Shit. The car belonged to Trevor's stupid gang. Larry lifted Mike's hand, the one not holding onto his throbbing chest, into his own.

"Tell me! Where did you put it?"

No. Mike shook his head. No he wouldn't give it to them. It wasn't theirs to take. The guy growled and jerked his hand. The sound was like a rubber pipe falling out of place, a sort of suction noise, but all Mike could hear was his own scream. Someone covered his mouth to block the cry. It was someone new, not from his apartment. Tears pricked Mike's eyes. The pain snapping through his every nerve was worse than anything he'd ever felt before.

"Tell them where it is, Mike!"

Trevor, his face lit up by the headlights and yet covered in shadows, moved around the edge of the pack. Was he sorry for this? Was that what Mike heard? Was Trevor feeling bad? It's too late for that, he wanted to scream, but he could barely manage whimpering. He thought of Harvey, imagined him stopping a situation with a pen and paper, imagined him stopping this situation too. Harvey could save him. Harvey could –

"No use holding out, Ross. No hot shot lawyers here to save you this time!"

Mike let out the most pathetic noise his body could produce as he spotted the glint of the metal bat being held in someone's gloved grip. The hand was still covering his mouth, another hand holding his arm to his aching chest. He couldn't move. It hurt too much.

"You've got about two minutes before I lose my temper."

The knife shone so bright in the night. Mike was dizzy with pain, and blood rushed to his head in fear. Even the rush of adrenaline through his veins wasn't enough to help him shake off the hands holding him down, and the knife was coming closer. So close.

The tip of the blade broke through the skin on his shoulder, and his plea was lost in the leather glove that sucked up anything he could possibly say. The pain ran down his shoulder, spreading quickly. The knife was sharp... which was both better and worse.

"What are you doing, man?!" Trevor's voice. Mike's head was swimming. He was panting through his nose and he could feel the blood oozing down over his shoulder, ruining the white of his shirt.

"Stay out of this unless you want me to do the same to you," Larry spat out. "Where did you put it, Mike?"

Mike tilted his head back, trying to free his mouth, trying to gasp for help. His finger burned. His shoulder burned. His side burned. His face burned. He was on fire! Burning. Burning fire. He choked, his body going into suffocating spasms until the hand was pulled away from his mouth and he could cough out his pain. It only caused more pain though, from his busted chest.

"Tell me where you hid it!" Larry yelled.

"You," Mike coughed out and then wheezed. Larry glared down at him, waiting expectantly. "You'll go to prison."

"Oh? You're going to find me when this is all over and send me to the slammer for assault and battery?" Larry asked, his tone nothing but a jeer. Mike coughed some more but nodded. Larry's expression darkened. "You really shouldn't have said that. I don't think you understand how this world works, Mikey."

The man who walked up with the bat was not the black guy from the apartment. Mike's chest felt like it might collapse if his heart beat any faster. Harvey, he kept thinking... kept praying. He had to get to Harvey... or to his phone.

"Jones," Larry addressed him. "Show Mr. Ross what we do to squealers."

The bat came down hard on his stomach. Blood came heavy from his mouth. Oh God. Mike gasped and curled in on himself. He rolled, making it onto his stomach, and wiggled, trying to crawl away. He kept thinking he just needed to get away from here, hide somewhere.

Someone stepped on him, squished him to the ground and he cried. He was in so much pain and yet so numb. He thought he felt the knife cut his hip, but it was burning from falling off his bike, so he couldn't tell. There was no escaping. He could feel it in the bruised part of his gut, in the sticky oozing wound on his shoulder. Even Trevor had shut up.

A kick to his knee. At least it wasn't the bat. The weight left his back. He tried to crawl again, but it was just pain in his chest and his stomach and his back. He turned his head and threw up - half blood and half his dinner in the office with Harvey. Fear clouded every sense that wasn't absorbed in pain.

Maybe he couldn't call for help, but maybe he could at least tell Harvey he was dying... tell him how much their relationship meant to him. Maybe he could confess his feelings before the end. He'd lost Grammy without apologizing, without telling her how much he loved her. Was he going to leave Harvey without telling him either?

"Alright, I've seen enough," Larry said. "Put him out of his misery. He's got nothin."

Mike was looking at the asphalt when it happened, when the bat connected with the left side of his head. He was imagining Harvey when he told him how he felt, imagining him smiling and telling him it was okay. Everything was okay. He was safe. Even if Harvey didn't like him back... he could imagine Harey's lips telling him he was safe there... with him. Not crying and bleeding in some side street of New York where no one had heard him being murdered.

And when Mike's eyes opened, waking him up from his memories to find himself in Harvey's condo, he didn't gasp or scream or whine. He took a silent, deep breath and squeezed Harvey's hand, which was still curled around his.

He rolled onto his side, which did not sting with asphalt burns, and set his face gently against Harvey's shoulder. He took another breath, this time of Harvey's shirt, and thought back to his final regret, to his final thoughts before the lights went out on what could have been his last night ever.

His next breath hitched, a sob clogging his throat but not escaping. He shifted his face, found a position that let him see their interlocked hands.

"I love you," he murmured. He squeezed his eyes shut, refusing to cry. "I'm sorry..." He swallowed down the sticky feeling in the back of his throat. "I love you."

And at least if he got shot over all of this... He'd said it out loud.

* * *

Preview chapter 10:

In the dark of Mike's room, leaning against the door, he'd looked at Mike in bed and thought about how used to this he was becoming, how used to it he wanted to be. He'd stood there and breathed slowly. When Mike called out to him, he'd held his breath because...

Donna stood just outside. "Mike's here," she said, and if her serious tone wasn't enough, her raised eyebrows and slightly stunned expression were.

"You want me to stay?" Mike asked.

Mike was speaking as though none of this mattered, as though it hadn't traumatized him. How could he do that? He stood up suddenly and moved too close to be considered professional. "I know what they want."


End file.
